


One True Guide

by Whatevergirl



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (2007), Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006), Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 43,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6190135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatevergirl/pseuds/Whatevergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of James Norrington had always been affected by the existence of guides and sentinels, it was just many years before he realised how much so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes on this particular sentinel/guide 'verse.  
> First is that sentinels can have any number of senses increased, some will only have one, others can have all five. 
> 
> Next is that unlike in actual sentinel canon, guides are particular people. Most are the other half to a sentinel and so the pairing work best when with the other (as in one guide to one sentinel, which is a true guide) but if a sentinel has no bond with a guide, then they can work any. A sentinel can also work with any guide if they have a complete bond with another guide. However, if the pairing have an incomplete bond, then they aren't settled enough to work with any other.
> 
> Then all guides and sentinels have a spirit guide, and the ability to walk in the spirit world with some awareness. 
> 
> And, sentinels and guides (those who can form a true bonding) are soul bonded, where the theory is that upon the creation of the younger, the soul of the older person is split into two and the other half goes and resides in their partner. It doesn't diminish the other person in any way, but it links the two together in a way that they cannot imitate with another person.
> 
> Also, as sentinels have their abilities (ranging from one up to all five increased senses), so too do guides have their own abilities. In this 'verse, I've written it so that these are a range of abilities that centre around the ability to manipulate the minds and emotions of others, but these vary from one guide to another.
> 
> With regards to James' father and the first snippet of James' life; the character comes from a book series about a young Jack Sparrow (which I admit I haven't read) but I loved the idea of that particular notion and so wrote my own version of it.
> 
> Hiera Picra is made from canella bark and aloes, it's a drug that was used to remove ill humours. It was used for most illnesses.
> 
> Finally, from around the 16th century until better treatments were available, wounds that needed dressing, particularly gunshot wounds were dressed with a mixture of oil of roses, egg yolk and turpentine.

At six years old, James Norrington was easily the youngest person aboard the HMS Gauntlet. He was holding tightly to the railings at the aft of the ship, trying not to think about how deep the water was; he couldn’t swim very well. He wondered if the water was cold, like in the seas around England, or warm, as in the stories he had heard of distant lands. His father, Admiral Lawrence Norrington, was in the main cabin below, working on a course through the reefs with O’Donnell. James had been left to himself again, so he had come up to watch the men climbing their way up the rigging. The boy wished he could join them, he did love heights after all, but he was afraid of being blown overboard by the wind that was pushing the ship along. 

Hands trembling as the ship cut through the waves, he looked out to sea; how far was it to land? Yesterday, James had been sure he had heard voices in the distance, but his father had informed him they were too far out to hear any towns, and the only ships about were the pirates they were hunting. Some time ago, James had commented at how exciting a pirate’s life must be, to sail where you like and not have to follow rules, but he had been overheard by his father; the result was his inclusion on this trip to capture the Misty Lady. 

He would never admit it out loud, but he was frightened. Every morning and every evening, he prayed desperately to God that he would come out safe from this encounter. His father had told him so many stories of how cruel and evil pirates were, so James rather hoped that these ones managed to keep hiding. 

“Sail ho!” Came a cry from above, and James turned towards the sound of another ship, taking a moment to spot her. She was far off to their right… or starboard? Was it? He frowned, ducking down to hide the ship from view while he tried to think about what his father had told him. He was to join the navy, one day. He had to know all the terms. 

He heard as the Admiral came up on deck, listening to the footsteps of men as they scurried about, but he remained crouched on the deck until the Admiral called for him. 

“James? Come here, boy. You should see this.” 

Moving slowly, under the pretence that he couldn’t quite get his feet under him on the moving ship, James went to stand beside his father. For once, he didn’t laugh as his father picked him up and placed him on his shoulders; James didn’t want to watch a fight. They had turned towards her and were catching the other ship up. The boy thought he could hear the shouting from the pirates as they spotted the Gauntlet gaining on them.

He peeked out from underneath the Admiral’s hat that his father had reached up to put on his head, fingers laced into the man’s thinning hair. 

“Will they fight?” he whispered, even as he could see the other ship preparing to do battle, hear the captain shouting out orders.

“They can try, my boy. Loathsome creatures that they are.” A warm hand pressed against his leg. “Come, shall we take the helm?”

They drew closer to the Misty Lady, and James tried to calm his shaking, terrified his father would notice. 

“People are going to be hurt.” He said, unable to hold his voice steady.

“Don’t you worry, lad. All I need them to do is their job.”

“Am I staying here for it?”

“Of course. I want you to see how bloodthirsty pirates are. No more fanciful notions of piracy being something other than a monstrous profession.”

“Do we have a cat aboard?” 

“Of course we do. My men don’t have time to catch rodents… not the literal kind, anyway.” The Admiral chortled at his own joke, but James wriggled about until he was on the deck. 

The ship’s cat (named Harold by James, as no one would tell him the cat’s actual name) was black with white feet and a white belly. The cat he had seen was a reddish-brown, with a bushy white tail. Heading down into the belly of the ship, James ignored the sound of cannon fire. He focussed all his attention on the cat he had seen. Sometimes, he saw the tip of its tail, other times he followed his instinct, but James stayed below. 

It was in the galley that he caught up with the animal, but it wasn’t a cat; it was a fox. He had seen paintings of them before, but this one was lovely. James stepped forward, one hand stretched out. 

“Why are you here?” he wondered, softly. “Were you running away from something? A ship is a good hiding place in port, but not once you’ve gone out to sea.”

The fox lay down, its intelligent eyes watching the child as he crept closer.

“Rufus, I think. You look like a Rufus. Will you be my friend?” He reached out a hand to pet the animal, but cries of ‘Huzzah!’ distracted him, and when James turned back, Rufus had gone.

\---------

The next day, James had to stand by the helm for the first watch. He hoped that no one had heard how much trouble he had gotten into for disappearing, but seeing how much blood was still on the deck when his father led him up the next day made the boy glad he had followed Rufus. 

“There’s a ship behind us.” He informed Thomason, as he turned to face the other direction. It was far away, and he couldn’t see any flags yet, but it seemed to be heading for them. 

“Admiral Norrington said you aren’t to talk.” Thomason informed him, before turning to glance behind them. “And nothing is there.”

“Yes there is.” He replied, defiantly. “It’s over there.”

“Where, laddie?” A young sailor with kind eyes asked, crouching down beside him.

“Over there. They are catching up.”

“Those are good eyes you have.” The man replied, squinting in the direction James had indicated.

“Leave him alone, Gibbs. He’s being punished for abandoning his post during battle.” Thomason snapped.

“Abandoning his… he’s barely more than a babe.” Grumbled Gibbs as he stood up, but he grasped James’ shoulder gently before he headed off below deck.

James was right about the ship though; when cry of ‘Sail ho!’ could be heard, the pirates they had captured burst on deck, having escaped the brig. He gasped, and ducked down, clinging to the railings as he peeked through them. He whimpered in relief as the admiral came charging out, sword in hand and a fierce cry on his lips.

“Move, boy.” Yelled Gibbs, as fighting men danced nearby. Thomason wore a frightening scowl as he sliced down those who approached him; but it was only when James felt the wet splatter of blood on his face that he ran down the steps, eyes tracking the movements of everyone around him. A glance to his right made him stop just before a cannonball tore past him; the other ship had caught up. James backed away, ducking down by the stairs as he stared with wide eyes at the fresh batch of pirates that were joining the fight. 

“James?” his father’s voice called out, and James grinned. He looked out to see his father fighting a tall man in a red frockcoat, their swords clashing in a painful symphony. “Go below deck! Out of the way!”

James frowned slightly, confused. His father had told him off for hiding last time, when he hadn’t even been hiding; why was he now to go elsewhere? But the glimpse of a foxtail convinced him. He carefully shuffled out from his spot and began to tread carefully through the battling crowd, eyes scanning those around him so he could avoid injuries. 

However, the pirate his father was battling let out a fierce roar in response to something his father had said and went on the attack. Petrified, James froze as he watched his father become more sluggish in his parries. He couldn’t make himself move, even as the pirate forced their fight closer and closer to the boy. He stared in horror as blood soaked his father’s coat from the slices that were made.

And then, the pirate struck his father’s sword out of his hand, raising his own blade in preparation to take his father’s life.

“No!” screamed James, backing away in fright; but there were no railings behind him, cannon fire having blown them away, and he fell.

The boy didn’t notice the temperature of the water. Instead, he felt a crushing weight as his breath was knocked out of him, and he flailed, trying to reach the surface. Under the water, James could see far more than he could have expected: Scores of fish, dolphins, sharks… he looked down and spotted a ship beneath them. It had no sails, and there was something covering the surface, but it was definitely a ship. His limbs stilled as he watched it, staring through the murky water at the fish that were darting into the main cabin. 

He was still staring, almost catatonic, as a man jumped into the water beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. He was still staring as they were hauled up onto deck, though he was no longer seeing anything.

He didn’t hear as pirate captain spluttered beside him, calling out in a hoarse voice; nor did he see his father, lying unconscious on the floor nearby. 

“Why isn’t he moving, Dad? Is he dead?” It was a young man’s voice that cut through the fog in his mind, and James blinked as the dark haired captain looked up at his teenage son. 

“Apparently not.” The man straightened up, as James’ vision blackened. The man spoke again, but the boy didn’t hear.

The last thing he saw before passing out was the pirate captain winking at someone. 

\---------

It was some time later before James’ father had recovered enough to see him, and James obeyed the summons. He had been debating what to say to his father, when he got the chance to speak. He could see better than ever before, hear more than he had been able to; he was experiencing the world in a new way, and was trembling with excitement for the chance to tell his father. 

But the conversation did not go as expected. 

Admiral Lawrence Norrington was not impressed with his son’s inability to control himself, and to hear the boy had been rescued by the pirate that had cut him down was added insult. The final words that he spoke on their journey back to port rang in his ears, echoing the shame that they invoked throughout James’ body.

“Your death would have been preferable. I now owe Edward Teague a debt.”

James spent the return journey in silence, hoping his father wouldn’t notice him. He shut his eyes and pressed small hands over his ears, trying to block out his strengthened senses. By the time they reached port, he could convince himself that he could only see as far as the tree, and he couldn’t hear the people chattering in the square, that he couldn’t smell the bread from the bakery, and that the world was as it had always been.

Instead, he vowed to focus on working hard. He would join the Royal Navy and make his father proud of him.

\---------

James’ next encounter with pirates was a decade later, as a midshipman, and though the Royal Navy captured the men, the young man wondered at the bloodlust he saw in both sides. 

\---------

Five years later, and Lieutenant James Norrington encountered the aftermath of a pirate attack. They were travelling to Port Royal, ferrying the new Governor and his daughter across from England when the girl spotted a boy in the water. 

Hurrying to peer out, he saw a ship sailing away, it’s tattered black sails somehow managing to fill with enough wind to move the vessel. 

“Captain!” he strode smartly across the deck. “Sir, the pirate vessel; we need to give chase.”

“I see no ship.” The man replied, eyes scanning their surroundings as he searched for it.

“It’s there, disappearing into the fog.”

“There only ship I see other than our own is the one burning over there. At any rate, we can’t go chasing pirates with the governor aboard.”

“No sir.” He replied, but his eyes were not looking at his captain.

“Come on, lad. You’ll get your chance to fight pirates.” The man clapped him on the shoulder and headed up to the helm. 

James Norrington headed over to where Elizabeth Swann was keeping watch over the boy she had found.

“Has he said anything?”

“His name’s William Turner. That’s all I’ve found out.” She answered, but her eyes were glazed over and her hand was resting on the boy’s arm. 

“Are you well, Miss Swann?” he asked, frowning at her pale face.

“I can feel… everything…” she whispered faintly, before her eyes rolled back into her head. James caught her before she hit the deck, yelling out as she went.

“Elizabeth!” the panicked cry of the newly widowed governor permeated the air as he fell to his knees beside his daughter and the lieutenant. “Elizabeth. What happened?”

“I… have a suspicion.” He murmured, thinking of Theodore Groves, and his guide abilities. Not that he would ever mention the man by name in the same sentence as what guides do; unbonded sentinels and unbonded guides were not allowed to serve in the Navy, and in the few cases when they had done so, the punishment had been death. 

“Please.” The governor grasped his arm, nervous eyes darting between James’ face and Elizabeth’s. 

“Not here.” He said softly, before picking the child up and carrying her back to the governor’s cabin. 

“Lieutenant? Please…”

“Sir… How much do you know of guides and sentinels?” James considered the governor an honourable man. Once they were out in the Caribbean, perhaps he would not feel a need to report anything James said; though he would keep silent on names.

\---------

It was just over two years later when James was promoted to Captain and given command of the HMS Equity. She wasn’t a large ship, but her crew was valorous and they trusted in both their captain and his mission: to rid the world of pirates. Admiral Lawrence Norrington had been grievously injured in battle by Malcolm Archer, a pirate captain who was supposedly as sadistic and cruel as any demon. Not that the admiral had gone down without a fight, he had taken out not only a large number of the man’s crew, but the captain’s eye as well. 

The admiral had chosen to pass on his personal goal to his youngest son, take as many pirates down as possible. While James lacked his father’s bloodthirsty fervour, he obediently took his ship and, with the blessing of the Royal Navy, started his task as a pirate hunter. 

It was less than a year later when he and his crew were captured in a sea battle by the very pirate responsible for his father’s false leg: Malcolm Archer. However foolish it made him feel, James had failed to lie about who he was when asked to introduce himself to the man, and the remaining eye in Archer’s heavily scarred face narrowed as he heard the naval captain’s name. 

“Well now, Captain _Norrington_ , I’ll give ye a choice. Which d’ye love more? Yer ship or yer crew?” The question was accompanied by a nasty smile that made James shiver, despite the warm Caribbean sun. 

“What is it you’re asking me?” He asked, wondering which answer would keep himself and his crew alive.

“As I said, boy, ye have a choice. Yer going to ma brig either way, but do I leave yer ship intact, or do I let that pretty crew bunk down in the brig also?”

“My crew.” He replied without hesitation. “Don’t kill them.”

The variety of weapons pointed at his crew didn’t falter with his words, but at Archer’s nod, one crewman signalled to someone aboard the Equity. James stared wide-eyed as what felt like only moments later, the gunpowder aboard his beautiful ship was lit; it combined with what was no doubt the alcohol to cause a large explosion. He could not quite suppress the whimper as he watched her beaten. 

“Johnson, show these men the brig, if ye please.” He smirked as they were marched off, James’ legs weak as the rush of the battle left him and he acknowledged their status as prisoners. 

“Is anyone badly injured?” He asked, as soon as they were alone (with the exception of one pirate). He was sat opposite his first lieutenant, who was settled in the corner, determined to watch everything. James was content that he could see the doorway. 

“I think Harry’s going to need his arm stitching up, sir.” Groves answered. “And Gibbs is limping. Peters and Markel never made it off the Equity and Kipling went overboard not long after they caught up to us. Looks to be nothing major otherwise.”

“You’re forcing yourself calm.” James whispered to him, barely speaking so the men didn’t overhear.

“Sir?” Concern decorated Groves’ face as he saw the lethargy sweeping each of the men. 

“Wait until we have a plan before you make people sleep.” He said, forcing a smirk in an attempt to lighten the mood. Groves managed a fleeting smile. 

“I feel like I should be doing something.” Groves replied, twisting his fingers together as he stared at the men, watching them bind Harry’s arm. 

“The lieutenant is fine. Gibbs is fine. There is nothing we can do about Peters, Markel or Kipling. We need to rest.”

“We need a plan to get out.” The man hissed, unwilling to be a prisoner any longer than he had to. James smiled.

“We need to wait. Wait and rest up. I imagine Archer will want to speak to me, and that’s when I’ll be able to get a better view of the ship. We need to work out how many men are on each watch, try to work out how many men aboard the ship, then figure out a way to escape. But as I said, first we sleep.”

With that, James wedged himself in beside Groves and leaned on the man’s shoulder with his eyes shut. 

\---------

“I don’t want ye thinking I’m a cruel man, Captain Norrington.” Archer was limping back and forth on the deck. James was held fast by two men as the captain spoke. “After all, life is about choices. So that’s what I’m giving ye; another choice.”

“What choice would this be?” James asked, trying to keep his tone disinterested. 

“Ye good self, or yer crew.”

“For what?”

“Why, entertainment of course. Me crew have been working hard for a long time now, being chased by one navy man, and then another.” Archer grinned, a cruel twinkle lighting his eyes. “I think they’ve earned a reward.”

“Me. Leave my men alone.” James said, glaring at Archer. He was shaking slightly, fearful as he remembered his father’s warning about the captain’s harsh, sadistic nature, but a captain was to protect his crew, and he would endure this.

“A compassionate man, ey? How sweet. And ye are a pretty boy, far more pleasant to look at than the other Norrington we had. Did ye know him?”

James glared, but didn’t answer. He didn’t trust his voice to not wobble. 

“Shall we see how pretty ye are in red?”

He was spun around, and they stripped him down to his breeches. He had half a moment to be thankful that he had left his coat with Groves, when the first lash fell. He gasped, twisting to try avoid the pain, even as he knew it would do no good. Another lash, and his back already felt as though it were ablaze. The blows continued to a chorus of cheers, and James heard bets being called out as the pain continued. 

The sound of coins rang out as he let loose his first cry, and James turned his mind away from the ship.

He focussed on the sea.

He listened to the lapping of the waves against the edge of the boat, the noise as the wind pushed the water up. God was supposed to be where men were gathered together, but if He was here, He wasn’t on deck. James listened for Him in the waves, in the comforting roar of the ocean. James found Him in the healthy breaths of his men, huddled together in the brig and in the ever present call of life below the surface of the water, in the world outside this cruelty. 

He ignored the pain, he ignored the men around him. He fixed his eyes on the ocean, breathing in the salty air, feeling it burn his raw throat; the taste was a comfort though, and he focussed on that. 

James barely noticed as he was shoved back down to the brig. Didn’t feel it as Groves grasped his bare arms and sat him up. He stared blankly ahead of him, unaware of his men as they hovered nervously in place, unsure of how to help. 

“Captain? _Captain_? Come on, James. Please?” Groves pleaded softly, desperately trying to get the green eyes to focus on him. 

“Is… Is that blood on his…? It’s just from his back, right?” Jones asked, his fear lapping against Groves’ mind. 

“Just his back.” The lieutenant confirmed, though he didn’t need to look to confirm. The amount of lust and sick enjoyment that had been on deck during the captain’s torture had been almost impossible to bear, but he knew what _that_ kind of completion felt like, and it seemed their captain had been spared. 

“What do you suppose they wanted to know?” Jackson wondered quietly, tear tracks still on his face. They had all heard James screaming. 

“I didn’t hear any… I think it was just for fun. Remember that Admiral Norrington already got into a fight with Archer. This is probably revenge.” Groves wrapped the thick coat around James, before returning to try and catch his eyes. There was a wave of emotion behind him: disgust and fury making up its body, and Groves could sympathise; he felt sick to his stomach. 

“We can’t stay here.” Jones said, his voice becoming steadier as shock eased its hold on him. 

“No.” Groves noticed those green eyes finally watching him, and relief rocked him. “James.”

The captain’s dry lips moved, but no sound came out. 

“Get some rest, sir.”

“W-Was an-” James’ words cut out as he began to cough. Having no water to offer him, Groves simply held the man as he struggled. “Anyone here?”

“You mean the crew? While you were up there? No, just us.” Nearly all the crew had gone up to see the show.

“Ov- There.” James gasped, pointing to an interior wall. “Out.”

Groves looked, and spotted his spirit guide as she fluttered her wings elegantly. She swooped down to land on the floor, twisting her head around to look at the wall before hooting and disappearing. Leaving James curled in the corner, Groves went as close to the wall as he could while on the wrong side of the bars. It looked as though there was a small gap in the wood where rodents had chewed their way through, and the wood around it was old, rotten. He grinned. 

“We just need to pick the lock.” He murmured with a frown, aware that this was an area in which he had no skill. Keeping his voice soft so that the pirate didn’t hear, he turned to the men. “Can anyone pick a lock?”

“Aye, sir.” Gibbs nodded. “But it mayn’t be quiet.”

“From what I gather, the plan is to wait until they… take the captain again.” Hating himself for even speaking the words, Groves took a steadying breath and looked at the man. 

“Aye, sir.” He replied, voice grave in understanding. 

“Get some rest everyone.” He instructed, settling back down beside James. He concentrated, taking the worst of the anxiety from the crew and letting their own exhaustion fill the space left.

\---------

It was when James awakened that Groves realised something was off; the man didn’t seem to feel anything. He was able to sit against the wall without making a noise, but when Groves dipped the cup into the bucket of water they had been given to drink, it slipped through his fingers as though they were numb.

“Did you sleep on your arm?” Groves muttered as he refilled the cup and helped James to take a sip. The water made the man choke and retch for a moment, but Groves waited until he could try again.

“Can’t really feel.” James murmured in reply, his eyes sweeping the brig, taking in the condition of his crew.

“As in you are numb, or…” 

“I… I don’t know. I can feel… warmth... your hand is a bit warm.” James’ face was blank, but Groves could feel the fear of the unknown bubbling beneath, threatening to overwhelm.

“Focus on that warmth then. Can you feel it in your hands? What else can you feel? Your hands are warm too, and your arms. You are sweating. Can you feel it?” He began to whisper to James, trying to suppress his own confusion in favour of helping his friend and captain. It was years since he had helped someone change how much of a sense they noticed, but it wasn’t too difficult if you were confident and the sentinel trusted you.

Bloody hell… James was a sentinel. He could be arrested for serving under false pretences, if Groves was foolish enough to tell anyone. He thought back to the screams they had heard yesterday. Towards the end, they had fluctuated in intensity; James’ ability to feel must have been shifting from high to low and back again. 

He continued to guide the man back to normality, knowing they had struck it as James paled and curled forwards slightly. 

“You’re a sentinel and you didn’t tell me?” Groves hissed quietly as James straightened up.

“What?” Green eyes narrowed in confusion and Groves acknowledged that the expression was genuine. 

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?” James sighed, sounding exhausted. 

“You’re a sentinel.”

“I’m a…” the captain blinked at him, puzzlement lining his tired face. “Oh.”

“Always have to be difficult, don’t you?” Groves muttered, dry humour filling him with an inappropriate desire to giggle. He kept it in. Wouldn’t do for an officer to become hysterical. 

“Sentinels can decide how much they feel.” James stated in an undertone. “Can you teach me how?”

“Not all sentinels... but you apparently can. Let’s see what we can do before the captain comes back for you.”

“If I don’t have to feel everything, then I’d rather not.” James decided with a nod, before sitting cross-legged. He looked every inch the attentive student, if not for the fact the he wore only his stained breeches and his coat. 

Groves took a moment to calm himself, then he began.

\---------

Watching James get dragged out by his hair was difficult enough to endure, but it was even worse when he realised two things:

First was that the main emotion up on deck was lust, and a thrill of excitement was washing over the men as James was led out.  
Second was that not every crewman had gone up for this show. There were two men sat watching the brig, their emotions generally settled around disgust and horror, and several more who disapproved elsewhere. 

Groves couldn’t help worrying about what James was going to go through. It was not the sort of thing that one could just ignore because you couldn’t feel it. What if not having the pain to distract him meant that James couldn’t ignore the fact the he was about to be violated in the worst way? What if not having the pain meant he had too much clarity during the event, and could remember exactly what happened in the future?

It was a struggle to quell his own emotions enough to suggest sheer exhaustion to the men watching them, but as the men on deck began to jeer and shout, their lust seeping through Groves own mental shields, he went for the unsubtle approach of mentally informing the men they needed to sleep. The two dropped like bricks, but thankfully the crew didn’t question what had happened. Gibbs knelt down and set to work. 

Once the man had gotten them out the brig with a skill that honestly worried the lieutenant, Groves led the men over to the hole. It was more difficult than he had expected to expand the gap, the wood underneath not as rotten as he had hoped, but through determination, the men escaped.

As nauseous as it made Groves feel, when it came to sneaking across deck, he forced the pirates to focus every ounce of their attention on what was happening to James, and not one man looked around as they crept below deck once more and continued their task of knocking out those with at least some morals. 

Back on deck and finally armed, Groves considered the task before them. He had warned the men earlier about what he suspected would happen to their captain so he was hoping that they would be able to fulfil their tasks without hesitation. 

“Gibbs, you take your lot down the starboard side. I’ll flank you with my men. Harry, you well enough to charge in once we are in position?”

“Aye.” The man snarled softly, his face still pale but the expression fierce. “Just say when.”

Groves rather wished he was at the back, where he could better concentrate on manipulating the pirates, as opposed to leading a group of men in an attack; but he was an officer and so informed the men on exactly what needed to happen before they struck. The only bit he omitted was his guide influence, as he wanted to continue his career after this. 

“Now.” He whispered, as they surrounded the pirates, and the men let out a rallying cry before engaging.

Soon enough, it was a matter of focussing on avoiding blows and parrying swords. Pistols weren’t drawn as they were in such close proximity, but blades were slicing through the air in every direction as Groves fought his way to the centre. 

James was completely naked as he lay face down on the deck, but Groves didn’t have time to take it all in. Anger pulsed through him, darkening his vision as his attention turned to the pirate captain, Archer. His lack of coverings on his bottom half, down to his bare feet made him the centre of Groves’ wrath and he yelled as he threw himself at the man, viciously attacking in a way that would have been foolish if he relied solely on his skills with a blade; instead, he poured his disgust into the man, weighing him down with the strength of his emotions until he was able to knock him out. 

Stopping before he sliced open the unconscious man was difficult, but James believed that pirates ought to face trial and hang. So the monster would do just that. 

A blade to the captain’s throat and the rest of the fighting stopped. A large number of pirates had been vanquished, but Harry focussed on rounding up the rest to the brig as Groves dropped to his knees beside James, shrugging out of his coat to cover his friend’s skin. 

“James?” he turned the man’s head so that he could see his face. It was bloody and those eyes were distant, as though James had retreated into his own mind. Groves allowed his friend to remain in the safety of nothingness, instead sitting him up and leading him off to the Captain’s Cabin. 

There was an overpowering smell of tobacco inside, which roused James. 

“Theo.” He whispered, eyes wide and voice achingly vulnerable. 

Groves stepped forward in answer, grasping James’ shoulders but aware of the nervousness the gesture brought on. 

“They’re going to hang!” he spat, barely able to contain his rage. 

James nodded, before shutting his eyes and drawing the coat closer around himself. 

“Can I leave you alone for a moment? I want to find out what supplies we have.” Maybe he could find enough water for James to bathe. 

“Thank you.” The captain replied, his expression hidden by the tilt of his head and the loose hair that was no longer neatly in place.

Turning, Theodore Groves hurried out the cabin, swearing to himself that the fervour with which he focussed on the mission set to them by Admiral Norrington would greatly increase from this day on. The voice in the back of his mind that insisted not all pirates were so cruel was drowned out by the one that insisted he had to ensure that those who would rape, pillage and plunder would not walk free.

\---------

Elizabeth Swann liked to think she knew James Norrington very well, far better than propriety dictated that she ought to, but she had never given a damn about what other people thought she should do. At least, not most people; there were three men in Port Royal that Elizabeth cared for: 

Her father was the first and she really would do anything if he needed her to. She could still remember being nine years old and confessing to her grief-stricken father that everywhere in London reminded her of the mother she would never see again. She could remember that her father had asked her to trust him, and then months later he had been given the position of governor in some distant land. They had left behind everyone they had known and settled somewhere that had no nostalgia attached to it. 

The next was a boy she had met on the journey over there: William Turner. Her heart always fluttered whenever she thought of him, and the man he had become. He was her sentinel and she was his guide; two halves of the same soul. However, he was also a man held down by what was proper; he apparently had no difficulty denying his primal side, having never spoken to her out of turn, or show her any more acknowledgement than an awkward smile. James always grinned when she complained about this, and told her that perhaps William was just naturally shy… She didn’t believe that for a moment. 

The third and final man was, of course, James Norrington. He was a Navy man, an unbonded sentinel and eleven years her senior, but he was also one of the kindest men she knew and just as awkward as William, in his own way. He was also a pushover when it came to keeping those he loved happy. She knew something was coming, and she had her suspicions on what it was. 

Her father kept hinting that she ought to be more appreciative of James’ abilities, and how he was doing so well for himself. She could feel the hope inside him whenever James visited and they went to chat somewhere quiet; entirely improper of course, but her father never said no. James himself had an antithetical view of the situation, his anxiety and dread building whenever he had to speak with the governor these days; even so he always made time for her father whenever it was requested.

Therefore, when James took time after the ceremony to speak to her, she knew what was coming.

“I apologise for taking you away, but I must speak with you.” James was wringing his hands together, taking deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself. Elizabeth would have helped to soothe him, but she couldn’t think when she was unable to take a deep breath while wearing a heavy dress on a hot day.

“There are certain… obligations that ought to be achieved and…” James hesitated, turning to look at her. “Not that I would view marriage to you as an obligation. You are, after all, a dear friend and…” 

James flushed, but her sight faded and her knees gave way. As Elizabeth fell, she felt a hand close around her wrist, but after a sudden jerk, she continued to fall.

\---------

“Singapore, mate.” These were the first words Elizabeth heard as consciousness returned to her. The words spoken slowly and in a soft voice, as though the one talking was not really interested in the conversation. 

Her attention felt like it was returning in stages, first she saw the two marines knelt either side of her, both blatantly hovering in concern, but neither touching her. Next she realised that she wore only her shift. Then that their attention kept wavering over to something behind her. 

Pulling herself up, she reached out with her senses, trying to discover what was going on quicker than her sluggish body was willing to move. There was a sharp pain in her head as she did so, and she forced her muscles to obey her. 

Frozen in position, a rugged man was kneeling over James, his hands pressed to James’ cheeks. Neither the man, nor her friend seemed to notice the blood that was seeping into James’ collar from his brown hair. 

“James!” she startled, scrambling to her feet. She was stopped from touching him by the marines.

“You can’t disturb him.”

“He’s bleeding.”

“You both fell, but he hit a rock.” The thin man replied, his eyes tracking over the Commodore and his companion. 

“Are they zoned out?” The other marine wondered aloud, knocking gently into his friend. “That man can talk, so I’d say not but they’ve been there since he pulled Capt- I mean Commodore Norrington out.”

“That would imply the Commodore is either a guide or a sentinel. He doesn’t have a bondmate, he works in the Navy, which means he is not either.”

“Not necessarily. He could have lied to get into the Navy. Maybe he thought he would have a better chance of finding his other half if he travelled.”

“You think the Commodore is the sort of person who would lie to his superiors?”

As they make continued to discuss the possibilities, Elizabeth crept closer to the men. 

“James?” she whispered. Now that she was closer, she could see that James’ eyes were open slightly and they were moving, as though trying to take in the situation before he did anything at all.

“James? Is that your name? Come on then love. You need to get up.” The other man coaxed, pulling his hands away and sitting back. 

James let out a little noise that Elizabeth hated to label as a whimper, then he grasped the man’s hand. As they both got to their feet, James with decidedly less grace than he usually possessed, the marines finally turned up.

“Elizabeth!” Her father’s voice made the young woman turn. She kept her eyes on the marines as they surrounded the man and the officer, not even acknowledging her father as he wrapped his coat around her. “James?”

“Commodore?” One of the marines asked, as James looked decidedly dazed with one hand still wrapped around the other’s wrist. “Who’s this?”

“Smith!” exclaimed the man instantly, a wide smile showing glints of gold. “But I’ll answer to Smithy, mate.”

“No.” James murmured, pulling the wrist closer to him and showing the cuff higher up his arm. “A pirate… A sparrow? Jack Sparrow.”

“ _Captain_ Jack Sparrow.” The man insisted, pulling his arm free from the Commodore’s grasp. Elizabeth held back a smile; she had heard so much about this pirate from sailors who docked in Port Royal’s harbour. He was practically a legend amongst pirates.

“Hang him!” her father commanded, and the marines lowered their guns at him. James stared at Sparrow’s face, blinking hard as though trying to focus. 

“Father? Are you really going to kill my rescuer?” She looked pleadingly up at him. “Not only mine, but James’ as well?”

“He’s a pirate.” One of the lieutenants snapped, before turning to speak to one of the marines. 

“Gillette.” James murmured, turning his lost gaze upon the man.

“Sir? You’re bleeding.” Gillette gave an apologetic look to James, before commanding some marines to bring him along. “Ah, there are the irons.”

Wrists bound, Captain Jack Sparrow watched the Commodore for a long moment, but then his dark eyes settled on her. 

“Wait. What’s that?”

It was her medallion, and she turned away, pulling her father’s coat tighter around herself. 

“Groves?” James was pushing his way through the marines, moving dizzily but with determination. “I think I need to speak to him.”

“When he’s behind bars, sir.” A tanned young man stepped closer and drew the Commodore away. “And your eyes are… odd. Maybe we should take you to get that stitched up.” 

James was pulled away, and Sparrow was lead through the streets, escorted by a dozen marines. Elizabeth sighed as she watched him go. Maybe she could give James a list of questions to ask him for her… assuming he was well enough before the pirate hung. 

\---------

The first thing James knew about a pirate attack was when he eating a small breakfast the next day. He had slept soundly through the night, having succumbed to the mixed sedatives of chamomile and Groves’ enforced sleepiness, before they had stitched his wound and dressed it with something that now smelt like roses, eggs and something else that he was still too tired to try and identify. However, he was thankful that the Doctor had declared him able to sleep, the decision had involved a lot of uncomfortable staring into his eyes, but at least he hadn’t had to fill the night with something to do. 

“Commodore? The governor is here to see you.” 

“Already?” James frowned, sleepily rubbing at his face. “Show him in, will you?”

“James! They took Elizabeth!” The governor was distressed, his eyes wide and his breathing panicked. 

“Governor? Who took Elizabeth?”

“Didn’t you hear the attack?” Weatherby Swann dropped into the seat beside James, tears in his eyes as he looked at the young man before him. “You look dreadful. And there’s blood on your bandage there. I didn’t realise you’d been injured so.”

“I… couldn’t say, governor. The doctor insisted on knocking me out yesterday afternoon so that I didn’t unbalance any humours. I tried to insist that it didn’t hurt, but I could not explain why I feel no pain without getting myself arrested. I… What attack?”

His head was pounding and the smell of the opiates left for him, even though they were on the sideboard on the other side of the room, was strong and it was difficult to keep control of his senses while he was floundering. 

“A pirate attack! James, they took Elizabeth. I don’t know what to do.” The governor looked small, sat haphazardly in a chair, his wig shabby and his clothing disordered.

“We’ll head to the fort and see what information has been gathered so far. Perhaps the pirates were talking about plans as they attacked, or perhaps something was left behind. Do you know if they took Sparrow?”

“The pirate from yesterday? I… have no idea.” The man looked less frightened, and with a determined look that reminded James strongly of Elizabeth, he stood up. “Let’s head off then. I’ll wait in my carriage, give you time to get ready.”

“I shan’t be long.”

“Although… James?” The governor stopped and turned to look at him, concern written clearly on his face. “Should you be heading out? I don’t want you falling ill. That on top of Elizabeth disappearing would be too much.”

“I’ll take the pain away. It’s not a bother, governor. I’d only get worked up if I had to stay behind.”

“I suppose so.” The older man managed a weak smile, before he hurried out.

James took a deep breath, trying to quell the bilious feeling spreading through him. He had better sight than any sailor in Port Royal, with the possible exception of Mr Mullroy, a bonded sentinel in the marines; however, he had never bothered to test the difference in their eyesight. 

\---------

“So, did anyone find anything?” James interrupted the marines’ arguing. “Were any of the pirates overheard?”

“Not as such, sir.” Murtogg replied, straightening up. 

“Meaning?” Growled James, his need to find Elizabeth worming into his patience. Beside him, Gillette frowned slightly, his eyes flickering into his face; Groves sighed discretely pressed against his side, trying to calm his friend. For once, it didn’t work; the feel of Groves beside him was distinctly wrong and it made his skin itch. He stepped forward in an unintentionally threatening manner.

“We… I heard say the pirates were looking for gold, sir.” Mullroy answered, moving slightly to half stand in front of his friend. “From what we have heard from people, the gold _calls_ to them.”

“Gold doesn’t do any such thing.”

“Cursed gold, sir.” Murtogg cut in, apparently interested in anything supernatural as his expression brightened. “It calls out to those it has cursed.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard any treasure calling.” The Commodore said softly. Then he turned away and to ascend the nearby steps on the way to the gaol cells. “Was Sparrow taken by the pirates?”

“No sir.” Lieutenant Gillette hurried after him, leaving the other behind to discuss possible routes out of Port Royal. “Those thieves got away and there’s a hole in the wall, but Sparrow is still there.”

“Then I shall speak with him.” James had had a suspicion that Sparrow was still in the town, but he had been unwilling to contemplate what it was that made him think so. 

“Yes sir.”

“Wait here.” James headed down the narrow staircase, eyes focussed on the man at the bottom.

Captain Jack Sparrow was sat cross legged on the floor, his dark eyes staring up at James as the officer approached him.

“Captain Sparrow.” He began, deciding he ought to treat the man respectfully if he wanted any assistance. 

“Commodore James.” The man grinned up at him.

“Norrington.” James corrected calmly.

“What’s that?”

“My surname. I am to be addressed as Commodore Norrington.”

“To the masses, maybe. But you and me, mate, we’re closer than that.” The man slid to his feet, as smooth as a snake charmed by men on the other side of the Pacific Ocean. 

“I’m here to discuss the pirates, Sparrow.”

“Must we, luv?” Sparrow wrapped long fingers around the bars, his eyes intense as they bored into James. This close, the commodore couldn’t ignore the smell; under the scent of unwashed pirate, there was something heady that was undoubtedly the man’s natural scent. It filled his nostrils, and combined with the pirate’s attractive stance, James felt the first stirrings of arousal. He stepped back, trying to control the primal urge to claim the man. 

“We must.”

“’Ow about this then? Why does the Navy allow an unbonded sentinel to walk about, and in a position of command?” 

“I wish to discuss the pirates, Sparrow.”

“Alright then. Ask away, luv.” Sparrow held his face up to the bars, and James took an unconscious step forwards, close enough to feel the man’s rum-soaked breath.

“Do you know where they are heading?”

“I know where they’re heading.” He smirked. “If you let me out, I’ll take you there, savvy?”

“I can’t let you out, but perhaps if your information proves useful then I can grant you some leniency.” James forced the words out, trying to appear calm and he spoke. His desire for Sparrow to agree was burning in him.

“Desperate, James luv?” Calloused fingers caressed his cheek, trailing around to press at his lips. 

“The pirates kidnapped Elizabeth. Something to do with pirate gold. I would save her.” His breath was coming in pants, words spaced out and soft as he allowed Sparrow to touch.

“The other guide.” Sparrow’s voice went cold, and the pirate stepped back.

“How did you know she is a guide?”

“Sorry, mate. I can’t help.” The pirate tried to smirk, but the expression looked forced, and he sat again on the floor; this time he faced the wall. “I’m sure we’ll speak later, Commodore James.”

Perplexed at the change in attitude, but aware that he had wasted more time down here than he had intended, James decided to head back to his officers to discuss their plans for retrieving Elizabeth. On his way out, he stopped to look at the collection of items removed from the pirate; the compass didn’t point North and the pistol only had one shot, but the sword was a nice one. He wondered who it had belonged to previously.

\---------

William Turner reeked of desperation as he approached the men. James understood why; after all, Elizabeth was convinced that she and Turner were of one soul. It was Turner who had never acted like it. The pain the blacksmith had caused his friend over the years caused James to treat him harshly, especially as Turner had never been bothered about her before, so James didn’t entirely trust his determination now; he couldn’t, not with someone so dear to him in danger.

“Groves, please see him away.” 

“Yes sir.” 

Groves’ sent out a wave of calming influence, and while it stirred the exhaustion James had been fighting, all it allowed Turner to do was take a deep breath and speak without growling. 

“We have to save her.”

“And here I was planning to have a cup of tea.” James’ voice was mordant as he traced a finger across the map before him, sarcasm rising with his frustration. He pushed back his pain, burying feeling so that he could focus on the patterns of the wind that the pirates may follow.

“You must know something about the pirates.” Turner’s own frustration was audible. 

“That ship was the Black Pearl, wasn’t it? Didn’t Sparrow talk about the Black Pearl?” Mullroy spoke up, apparently noticing his partner’s discomfort at the negative emotions. 

“Mentioned it, is more what he did.” Murtogg replied, seemingly incapable of simply agreeing with the other marine. James supposed they enjoyed bickering, trying to scowl at them as he thought of Sparrow, pressed against the bars of the gaol. Turner provided the necessary distraction.

“Then ask him where it is!”

“The pirates that attacked left him behind, ergo they are not his allies.” James stated, but his mind started working. Perhaps Turner could get information out of Sparrow. The commodore still didn’t know what he had done to offend the pirate, but surely the earnest desperation that Turner displayed would work.

If he helped retrieve the governor’s daughter, then perhaps Jack Sparrow wouldn’t hang.

As Turner hurried away, no doubt to sneak into the gaol, James turned to the governor to show him the planned route. 

“What do you think, sir?”

“Yes, yes. James, I trust you. Do what you must.” The governor tried to smile, but his terror for Elizabeth was overpowering

“Gillette, Groves? Prepare the Interceptor.”

“Yes sir.”

\---------

While James had known what was coming when Sparrow and Turner stole the Interceptor, he couldn’t deny that he was torn with indecision over what to do next. He must have been more suspicious of Sparrow than he realised, because his senses seemed to have adapted to follow the pirate. 

It was this that allowed him to overhear the conversation between Turner and Sparrow, and he acknowledged that perhaps Turner could be of use in the retrieval of Elizabeth… even if he was a little overdramatic about it: ‘I’d die for her’ indeed. 

However, James had to admit surprise when he had seen the overturned boat pushing its way through the murky waters towards the anchor of the Dauntless. He had stood from his vantage point and watched them, the view impeded only by the sailors preparing the Interceptor. 

Should he shout for help? Demand that someone stop them? That was his ship they were stealing, and in a way he would prefer them to take the Interceptor, but then the Dauntless was a far more powerful ship and surely she would keep them safe. But then, how would two men crew her? They would have to pick a crew up somewhere… 

He watched the two men haul themselves up and into the ship, still torn. 

It was only when Lieutenant Gillette was heading towards them and Groves pointed him out that James finally acted as he ought to. Sailing out to his ship, James continued to consider letting them escape. He didn’t want to hang either of them, and Elizabeth would not be pleased if they saved her only to reveal that they had killed her sentinel… 

“What do we do, sir?” whispered Groves, watching as the Interceptor pulled away from them.

“Make the Dauntless ready for sail.”

“Are we chasing Sparrow or Miss Swann?”

“One will lead to the other, and I should be able to track Sparrow.”

\---------

The salty tang of the ocean air was as refreshing and invigorating as ever. James spent most of his time beside the helm, breathing deeply as he listened to the distant murmurs of Jack Sparrow. It was only the open water and the good weather that allowed him to pick out the man’s lilting voice out, but even so, James was thankful for it.

Groves was not. The commodore spent all his time on deck, and everything else, eat, sleep, bodily functions, none of them happened until Groves literally pulled the man away and reminded him. He could only imagine the struggle his commanding officer was going through though. Groves had never held a true bond with anyone, and though he was loyal (to a fault, according to some) to James Norrington, it was not the primal urging of a guide and sentinel connection that prompted it; he was loyal because they were friends, they had been through much together and he trusted James more than any other officer he had served. 

The lieutenant had realised that he was not alone in his loyalty though; nearly all the men of the Navy in Port Royal would follow the commodore anywhere, as he had never steered them wrong before. Groves wondered if this would last though, if it could last once they realised the commodore was bonded to a pirate. For, that was definitely occurring. James had started to bond, and his need to find his guide would become all-consuming until they managed to complete the bond. He supposed that some of the men must have begun to suspect something already, as the officer was not acting as he ought to. 

The commodore forgot to do the most basic things, and Groves had had to bring him back to his senses too often as the man tried to focus his entire being on Jack Sparrow. The bloody pirate had better watch what he did when they caught up with him, for the past fortnight had been beyond difficult. 

“We have to do something.” Gillette came up beside him as Groves stared up at from the fore of the ship. “His head is surely only just healing, but the knock seems to have addled his mind.”

“He won’t rest until everything is the way it should be.”

“The Doctor gave you opiates for him, right? Can’t we use them to get him to sleep?” Gillette’s voice was soft, but he didn’t know how good James’ hearing was. “He’ll be of no use if he doesn’t rest.”

“He doesn’t react well to opiates.” Groves said vaguely, unwilling to explain both how strong they were to a sentinel, and how addictive. “Still, we’d best make more of an effort to get him to sleep. He’s starting to look like a ghost, even with his skin starting to burn.”

Thankfully, it was later that morning that Groves felt James’ body reach its limit; exhaustion filled him, and Groves jumped to take advantage. Gillette was by his side in an instant as he started to push James into the cabin, and together they stripped him down to his breeches, gave him a chemise to wear instead of his uniform shirt and forced him to bed. For the rest of the day, every time the man stirred, Groves used his abilities to send him back to Morpheus. 

\---------

When James stirred the next day, it was the smell of smoke that awoke him. It’s not enough to have him leaping out of his bunk, but the scent permeated his sleep and roused him. As green eyes glanced blearily around the cabin, he wondered where the smell originated. 

On deck, he spotted the start of a small fire on an island in the distance and so pointed it out to Groves.

“Which way, sir?” The man asked, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked.

“Over there. I could smell the smoke, but I can see it now.”

“I’ll tell helm to adjust course, sir.”

He could see Gillette peering curiously down at him from the helm as he followed James’ directions. The lieutenant was an intelligent man, and sometimes the commodore thought he could see understanding hovering just out of his grasp. He mused over this as he watched the smoke creep closer, if Gillette worked out he was a sentinel, what would the man do?

James rather hoped the man would continue to serve him loyally, accepting him as capable of working as an unbonded individual. However, fear held him back; perhaps he himself did not hold Gillette’s loyalty. As much as the thought hurt, James had to consider the possibility that it was the Navy that received Gillette’s devotion, and that the man would turn him in if he realised that James was breaking the strict laws that had been laid down, generations ago. 

Turning away from the men, he deliberately listened to the noises beyond the ship, straining his ears to pick up the bickering voices of Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann as she had apparently decided to burn what it was that kept the pirate grounded: rum. 

“I must say, mate, I am thrilled to see ye. Now, say you have rum somewhere aboard.” Jack Sparrow approached James as soon as his feet touched the deck. 

“Rum?” the officer’s thoughts scattered as his pirate approached him. He could hear the familiar sounds of Elizabeth arguing with her father, this time over the fate of William Turner, but he was unable to tear his eyes away from Sparrow. In a way, James had already acknowledged that they would need to go and fetch the boy as well, when he had realised that only Sparrow and Elizabeth were on the small island; he was her sentinel after all, and so James had a responsibility to see him back safely. 

“Please, do this. For me.” Begged Elizabeth as James turned away. “As a wedding present.”

“Elizabeth, are you accepting the commodore’s proposal?” James had frozen, but Governor Swann sounded joyous. 

“I am.” She tried to smile as James turned to look at her, but neither of them could manage that simply gesture. 

“No.” snarled a low voice from behind her, and Jack Sparrow tore his way from the grip of Mullroy and Murtogg. “You’re a liar.” He breathed at her, voice inaudible all but Elizabeth, who was in front of him, and James, who was as aware of Sparrow as ever.

“Captain Sparrow.” James addressed him. “If you would accompany these fine men to the helm then we can-”

“No.” the pirate interrupted again, his face livid. “She ought to be able to find him herself, or she ain’t his guide.”

“Elizabeth?” James glanced at her, unsure of how to react. He stepped towards them though, concerned with Sparrow’s behaviour. 

Sparrow stalked over to him, his body as enchantingly fluid as ever. James didn’t move, undeniably eager to remain in his path, for reasons he could not quite fathom. 

“You’re mine.” Sparrow whispered darkly, his hands clasping James’ arms. “Yer good self belongs to me.”

Arousal spiked through James at the words, and the smouldering look Sparrow sent him made him turn and drag the pirate into his cabin.

“If you would step up to the helm then, Miss Swann?” he heard Gillette say, as Groves was clearly trying to keep everyone disinterested in what was happening between the commodore and the pirate.

But then Sparrow’s lips were on his, and he could think of nothing at all. The hot slide of wet flesh sent a thrill through him that caused him to pull the other closer, pressing the firm body to his own with a burning desire that he had never before experienced so sharply. He allowed himself to be pushed against the wall of the cabin, his attention focussed on removing the pirate’s clothing rather than the way his own seemed to be sliding off.

“Fuck.” Muttered Sparrow. “Fuck, Jamie.”

“J-James.” James stuttered, his body heating up as though they were still out in the mid-day sun.

“Only, if you call me Jack, luv.” The pirate smirked, his dark eyes raking up and down James’ pale body. But he pressed their lips together again before James could reply, running his tongue along James’ lips and dipping it inside. 

James moaned low as he tasted Jack, underneath the taste of rum that lingered. He sucked on the muscle that probed his mouth, shuddering at the rough feel of it. Every time he felt like falling into his senses, focussing just on the feel, or the taste, then Jack would move up to murmur in his ear, or he would demand James looked at him.

The experience was off-balancing and James felt unable to catch his breath. Instead, he pressed his naked body to Jack’s, whimpering loudly as the pirate pushed him down into the rough blankets, calloused fingers roaming the skin. He wanted to follow it, the motion of those fingers, but Jack’s body was an insistent weight against his cock and he wanted more pressure there too. Spreading his long legs, he pressed his feet into the blankets and used the leverage to rock up against Jack; the muffled cry he got in return told him that his effort was appreciated.

“More.” He moaned, legs quivering as he kept them wide, desire flowing through him with such force that it was all he could do to keep his breath. 

“Jamie, luv.” Jack replied, but his voice was low, little more than a breath itself, as though need had sapped him of his usual bold resonance. The pirate flexed his hips, and James growled. He needed more. In a determined movement, James rolled them over so that he sat astride Jack’s hips. He needed to duck to avoid knocking his head off a shelf, but the position allowed Jack’s cock to press between his buttocks; it was exhilarating, knowing he had such an effect on the pirate.

The experience didn’t stir memories of the other pirate who had had him. Archer’s gaze had never send an invigorating rush through him the way Jack’s lusty stare did. James’ body was more than capable of feeling the slight tremble in the man’s body and the officer began to roll his hips. 

His mouth filled with spit as he looked down at Jack, his handsome body dancing with James’ as they moved together. Jack's face flushed deeply beneath his tan as his eyes kept dipping from James’ face to the cock that was jutting proudly out from his body. 

“Tell me that ye have oil in here, Jamie.” The man’s voice was no longer a slow drawl, but heavy with urgent need. 

“Oil?” James tried to pull himself back together, reassembled long enough to answer. “Yes. There’s a jar of… not oil, but a salve in the desk.” 

Rolling off Jack, James stared at the desk. The thought of leaving his partner for even that long was difficult, but a glance at Jack soothed him enough that he could stand. The jar was in the top of the desk, and soon enough, James was lying in Jack’s arms. The fact that he was now exchanging slow, passionate kisses with a pirate ought to have been completely off-putting, but the feel of skin and the surprisingly tentative look allowed him to relax even as he heard the pirate unscrew the top of the jar.

“Time to stop thinkin’, aye?” Jack murmured, as though he was aware that James’ senses were focussed on those fingers.

Nerves shuddered through him unexpectedly. Raising his arms, James clasped his hands at the back of Jack’s neck and tried to smile. Jack didn’t, but he simply stared intently at the officer, his gaze warm and wonderfully reassuring. After a moment, James nodded, confident he could take the pain involved. It was, after all, Jack Sparrow. The man had a reputation, and while rumours were often exaggerated, there was often a kernel of truth hidden at the centre.

“Ye need to relax, luv.” Jack told him, before his tongue traced the shell of James’ ear. As the pirate sucked the lobe into his mouth, a finger pressed between his buttocks… and then inside. James gasped loudly, a shot of fear lancing through him as he remembered the pain of the only other time. However, this was Jack. He lay back, trying to calm his thundering heart as he reminded himself that, for reasons beyond his understanding, he trusted this man.

Another finger was added, and soon enough another, yet with Jack’s murmuring in his ear, James got through it. The younger man had to admit that he was thankful for the time the pirate was taking over preparing his body for their union; the salve made the plundering almost pleasurable, which was so unlike what he had expected, that he was relaxing completely in Jack’s arms; and the warm kisses over his body were a balm as well, soothing his fears.

“Jack?” He panted, as the rubbing started to shoot arousal back through him. “Are you ever going to take me?”

“I will when yer ready, luv.” Jack replied, removing his hand for a moment to give it a rub then he added some more salve to it and slid three fingers back in, grinning at James’ moan.

“R-Ready now.”

“You ain’t a-tremblin’ with fear now. It’s not the same thing.” Jack’s face was serious for a moment, and James realised that the man was a guide. Of course he was, there was something in the back of his mind that said he should have known this all along, but it was too difficult to think. Instead, he acknowledged that they had a connection, one other than the joining of their bodies in a lewd manner; this was his guide and the truth of this burnt within him. 

He pulled Jack down to duel him in a far more wanton battle of bodies than the Navy would ever consider proper; he held the other face to his own, half trying to merge their bodies together before Jack was even ready to enter him. 

“W-What’s that, Jamie?” Jack asked, eyes wide as his own mind fully connected with James’, but the officer simply wrapped his long limbs around the pirate.

“Now, please.” 

“Aye. Now.” Jack’s voice growled, hot and low as he removed his fingers once more and picked the jar up again.

James stared up, not removing his own eyes from Jack’s as he fully observed the other man, all of his senses taking in as much as possible; from the heady scent of their activities to the sound of his heartbeat, James focussed entirely on Jack. 

Their joining was almost beside the point when it finally happened. James found he couldn’t break eye contact, and that particular union felt far more important… briefly, at least. As Jack pushed his cock inside, grunting harshly, but murmuring words as he went. James clung to the words he spoke as though they were true pearls of wisdom; he remembered to breathe, he pushed out, he trusted Jack…

The feel of Jack inside him was bizarre. Perhaps he was now adept at ignoring any pain, but there was something odd about having another man’s cock pushing in and out of him. The rough slide on the ring of muscle was stimulating though, and the fire that had roared through his body early began to relight. Above him, Jack was panting heavily, mouth hanging open with drool dripping as his hair swung around them like a heavy curtain; James reached up to touch him, rather enjoying that he could put such a look on that face when Jack knocked against something inside him. 

It jolted through his body, and the fire that had slowly been rekindling shot through him as though lit with gunpowder. He yelped, tightening his hands in the man’s hair as his ability to control the intensity of sensation disappeared; instead, he felt everything. He had heard sex described before as two ships passing in the night, but this was in no way similar. Surely this was two ships being shattered apart and rebuilt into one vessel, for James could not tell where his body ended and Jack’s began. 

“Fuck.” Hissed Jack, looking down at the man beneath him, and he dropped. With James supporting most of his weight, Jack couldn’t do much more than roll his hips, grinding into the officer’s body, but he made up for it with his mouth. They kissed as they fucked, as close together as they could manage and giving no quarter. James felt almost light-headed as he breathed through his nose, unwilling to pull his mouth back from the other man’s and risk losing this intense connection. 

But their eye contact went as James’ eyes rolled back into his head, his body jerking as Jack hit that spot inside him, and he broke their kiss as he threw his head back, not enough air to cry, but he whimpered out his pleasure as his body came. 

Jack bit the side of his neck, desperately shoving his hips in as James went boneless beneath him. When he reached his own release, the pirate remained on top of the officer, panting heavily. 

“Well…. Shit.” Muttered James as he lay still, body lax even as his chest heaved. With his eyes shut, he didn’t see the smug grin on Jack’s face as he shifted onto his elbows to lick at the mark he had left.

“Mine.” The pirate captain whispered.

\---------

As content as James was when he awoke several hours later, he had to concede the fact that matters were not solved. However, as he made his way up onto deck, his body thrummed with an energy it had never had before. 

“You look well.” Groves didn’t quite manage to keep his smirk hidden as he approached the commodore. 

“I can’t begin to tell you the difference.” He admitted, his eyes seeking out the other sentinel-guide pair; they were bickering again, this time over whether sentinels and guides were supposed to have sex or not. With a blush, James looked away; he hadn’t thought about other people hearing them.

“Perhaps I should go hunting for my sentinel, if it’s so good.” Groves had given up on the pretence of having a serious conversation, but James simply grinned at him, his mood light enough to bear the mocking.

“Heaven forbid you find a pirate as well.”

Groves laughed, and wandered off to do some actual work as Jack approached James. The expectant gaze of the fox made James frown, wondering what it was his spirit guide wanted him to do. 

“What’s William Turner like?” he asked, curious about the boy and unwilling to discuss their own personal situation yet.

“Will? He’s… young. He’s more gentle than I expected of Bill’s son. Sensitive. Innocent. Bit of a bore.” Jack waved a hand through the air to indicate more words to that effect. “He’s an intuitive lad though, when ‘e lets go of acting how he should and goes fer acting like ‘imself.”

“What does that mean?” James wrinkled his nose, trying to make sense of the explanation. He’d never really bothered about Turner before, considering him a shy person despite the fact that Elizabeth insisted he really wasn’t. 

“He acts how ‘e thinks it’s proper to act. But when he’s not trying to remember what ‘e’s supposed to be doing, ‘e can act like himself, aye? Then he doesn’t need to ask ‘does this whatsit go there?’ or what have ye. Then he knows when to talk and sometimes, what to say.”

“Not as bad as he acts then.” He murmured, thinking back to Elizabeth. He knew that she wasn’t on deck, but had gone below to talk to her father, as the low murmur of their voices informed him.

“Like you can talk, luv.” Snorted Sparrow quietly. 

As the sun dipped in the sky, James turned his attention to what was coming. 

“We need a plan.” He said, his eyes on the Isle that was still a fair way off. 

“Beyond ‘Go in and blast them bejeezus out of them?’ then?”

“Something slightly more tactful, yes.”

“Want your little mateys up here to discuss it then?”

“Yes.”

Once everyone was gathered, they discussed different plans. Gillette was content to go with Jack’s idea; to let him go in and send everyone out. Groves claimed that he didn’t trust Jack, and they settled for glaring at each other as ideas continued to move between them. Elizabeth wanted to be given a sword and the chance to go rescue her sentinel. James knew Jack was holding something back, but still didn’t want the man to go alone. 

Even once they had reached the Isle du Muerta and were settled in the longboats by the entrance to the cave, no strategy had been settled on. 

“I told you, luv. There’s no need to worry about an ambush. You do the ambushing.”

“You are not telling me everything.” James sighed as he pushed Jack’s hands off his person. 

“Come on luv.” Jack leaned in, close enough for James to feel his breath on his ear. “We’ve got no other plan.”

“If you go in there, we are not going to just sit aboard the Dauntless and wait to see what happens.”

“Course not. Ye can wait here, and then when they come out, you can start shooting. Still, the governor and the future Mrs Turner will need to be kept safe, just in case.” 

“Fine.” James snapped, with no intention of doing what Jack insisted on. 

They dropped Jack off at the cave entrance, then headed back out into view of the Dauntless, where James gave the order to signal those aboard the ship.

“Tell them to watch the anchor lines.” He said, remembering Jack’s trick of reaching the anchor with an overturned boat. In the cave, he could hear chanting and shouting, and he was keen to get a move on.

Watching the men signal to the ship as others discussed what they were doing made James impatient. 

“Pratt, I’m going over there. You keep an eye on things here. Use your judgment.” He said, listening to Jack barter with Barbossa. 

“Aye, sir.”

Those in his longboat insisted on dropping him off in the cave entrance, as they had for Jack, but James left behind his bulky coat, his hat and his wig. He didn’t want to immediately stand out, nor did he want to be encumbered by anything. He was sloshing through thigh deep water when it happened; a coldness spreading through him, so deep that it couldn’t be a chill from the icy water. He leant against the rock, eyes wide and limbs trembling. There was a pain, except that it was nothing physical. 

It was soul deep.

Hurrying, James pushed on. He swam through the water when the bottom dropped away once more, despite the heavy clothing he still wore. He could think of nothing but Jack, and yet he could barely sense the man. He could hear him, but it was distant. 

He could no longer hear the man’s heartbeat. The realisation froze him further, and tears suddenly blurred his eyes. He could hear Jack’s voice though. He was still talking, and James focussed on that.

“All hands to the boats!” Jack shouted, startling James as he pulled himself out. 

“Gents? Take a walk.” Drawled the other pirate, and James quickly looked for a decent cranny to hide in, slipping out of view just as the pirates went past. 

He frowned in confusion as they stepped straight into the water, sinking as those they had no breath to keep them afloat. Wildly, he considered hurrying back to warn the others, but he couldn’t make himself leave Jack behind. The guide hadn’t come out, and James still had no idea what had happened to him. 

As the last two pirates hurried past, these two wearing some kind of long material that brushed against the rocks and heading for the water, James tried to quell his panic enough to move.

“Wait?” one of them stopped, sniffing the air as he turned. “Do I smell something?”

“You might.” The skinny man replied, rubbing at an eye. “Your ability to smell was like no other, leastways it was before we was cursed.” 

James stopped moving altogether, holding as still as possible. Another sentinel? That meant there were four in and around this cave. It would have been fascinating to consider the idea of so many in one place, if James hadn’t overheard the fact that they were cursed.

Cursed gold? The marines had said the pirates could hear the cursed gold when they had entered Port Royal; it felt like months had passed since then, but it hadn’t even been weeks. Was there really cursed gold? Had Jack been cursed? 

Holding a snarl in, James listened as they got into a boat and sailed out. He was surprised to see the men wearing dresses, but he could do nothing to stop them. His gunpowder would be wet for the moment, and he wasn’t going to throw his sword in an attempt to detain them.

Moving quietly, he crept further in. The caves actually went quite deep, but it didn’t take James too long to follow the sound of fighting. Jack and Turner were battling against pirates. His stomach dropped away as he saw that the pirates truly were cursed, their skin rotting one moment, then whole the next. 

Not daring to look at Jack too long, James sprinted over to Turner. He snarled at the young man, unable to make words form as his emotions danced frantically about. Thankfully, Turner seemed to understand what he was trying to say.

“Keep them off me.” He replied, and James did just that. He slashed and attacked anyone who got too close to the other sentinel as he ran up to the large chest sat on a mound of treasure.

As Turner cut his hand and dropped the bloody medallion into the chest, James saw Jack behind him, staggering back with a sword through his chest. Letting out a roar, James hurtled towards them, anger honing his senses as he moved. He leapt lightly over a pirate that Elizabeth had knocked down, sparing no time to consider where she had come from. Instead, he threw himself at Barbossa. 

Knocking Jack out the way, he manged to snarl the word “Go!” at him, before turning his attention to the other. He thrust and parried with his beautiful sword, determined to keep the pirate occupied. He had to give Jack time to break the curse, and so restore himself; hopefully, that would take the biting cold away. 

The aggression in their duel was nothing new to James, having spent many years hunting pirates down, but it was annoying that every hit he landed made the other man laugh… the monster. He glowered, eyes flitting over to where Jack was sparring his way past other pirates. The distraction cost him, and James yelped as the blade cut into his shoulder.

And then warmth flooded back into him as the pirate before him returned to the appearance of a man. He looked over to see that Jack had broken the curse, but Barbossa didn’t stop. Blocking another attack and swiping at the man’s now vulnerable legs, James got back to his feet and continued in a far fairer duel. At every turn, James could see Jack’s warm, solid flesh, could hear his heartbeat; he could smell the man, would get to touch him, taste him. 

The very idea allowed him to fight with both fortitude and determination. Barbossa was at a distinct disadvantage now though, flinching with every cut of James’ blade, unused to pain. However, the man fought well, and he fought to the death; not stopping until the hilt of James’ sword was pressed against his chest, the blood on the blade that protruded from his back glistening in the moonlight. 

He hadn’t even had time to wipe his sword clean before Jack was on him, pressing their lips together as though trying to fully merge with the officer. He heard Turner’s cry of surprise, but did not care to explain anything. Let Elizabeth fulfil that duty; he was more interested in the press of Jack’s body against his own, the left-over energy from the battle turning into lust. 

They didn’t copulate again though, as Jack insisted on looking at James’ shoulder. His waistcoat was stripped off, then his shirt unfastened enough for Jack to poke at the wound. 

“It’s not so bad.” James said, trying to sound aloof as he resisted the urge to hiss in pain. “We should head back to the Dauntless.”

“Drop me at the Pearl?” 

“I… shouldn’t…” James hesitated, eyes going wide as he remembered his position in relation to Jack’s.

“Then ye’ll have to hang me. Can you do that, luv?” Jack pressed a warm hand to his cheek, eyes seeking out his intently. 

“I… I don’t know.”

“Then what do you propose we do, Commodore Jamie?” 

“I don’t know.” James stared at him. He could hear Elizabeth and Turner as they waited for them, but he was torn.

“Jamie?” For all that he was smiling warmly at him, Jack didn’t outright insist one way or the other. It was frustrating, but his mind drifted back to his father. The man had told him that he owed his life to a pirate, and that was a debt he should try and get rid of. While his father had never told him who the pirate was, or why he owed his life to the man, James had known that it was not a debt he would repay to any pirate. However, this one, he could.

“We’ll take you to the Black Pearl.” He smiled at the man, his guide. “You aren’t going free, you are simply allowed to have a head start.”

“You’re the one who’ll have to explain that to yer officers, luv.” But Jack was grinning at him, those quick fingers sliding over his face. With a jolt, James realised he had no idea what had happened to his men. Grasping Jack’s hands in his own, he shut his eyes and listened carefully:

Gillette had survived and was ordering repairs to be started. Groves… he seemed to be giving instructions on what to do with the prisoners. The governor wasn’t talking, and it took James a little longer to recognise the heartbeat of his friend, and the soft panting that was definitely Weatherby Swann. 

“My officers will have to understand.” He whispered, leaning in to kiss the man again. It was a soft, gentle exchange, a brief gesture before they had to stand and head for a longboat. 

“Where are we going?” Elizabeth asked, her whole body showing signs of exhaustion as she leant against Turner.

“We shall drop this pirate off at his ship. Give him a chance to captain it before I catch him again.” James smirked at Jack’s expression. “Then, we shall head back to the Dauntless, and Port Royal.”

“You’re just going to let Jack go?” Turner’s voice was drenched in suspicion. Apparently watching James kiss Jack wasn’t enough of a hint for the lad.

“For now. I’m sure the governor will grant me clemency though.” He replied, mostly resisting the need to roll his eyes as he settled in the boat beside Jack.

“If not, you can always turn pirate and come live with me, Jamie my love.” 

“What a tempting offer.” James replied flatly. 

Elizabeth giggled as Turner began to row. James focussed on the press of Jack against him, knowing he was going to have to explain to more than just the governor why he had let the pirate go, but not wanting to think about it just yet.

He was happy to put reality to one side for a little while longer.


	2. Chapter 2

Captain Jack Sparrow liked to think of himself as a popular pirate captain; his crew followed him loyally and he found loot for them in return. However they had recently been restless. Loot hadn’t really been on Jack’s mind though. He was aware that he was running out of time before Davy Jones came for him, but he had plans. 

He had heard rumours that there was a way to avoid Davy Jones, and so he followed those to a Turkish gaol. It had been a dank place, filled with screams as men tried to extract information from their prisoners, but Jack had managed to make it in unseen. Remaining invisible had been a challenge, but he had achieved his aim; he had the next piece of information.

He knew what the key looked like, and where it was. How he was expected to find Davy Jones and retrieve the key was currently impossible to say, but he would have to think of something. 

With a frown at his empty rum bottle, Jack staggered to his feet, leaving behind the navigational charts to head to the rum cellar. Inside, there was a strange sensation; a peculiar void in the comforting presence of the Black Pearl. He let the door swing shut behind him with the motion of the ship as he moved towards the bottle rack the wall; there were barnacles on it. 

That was odd. The whole ship had taken a lot of work to reach a habitable stage again, so that actual human crews could cope with being there, and the rum cellar had not been ignored. So, Jack mused as he debated touching one, what were these things doing here?

Thankfully, a bottle caught his attention and he sauntered over to it, pleased to find there was still rum on board. They hadn’t had chance to make port in a while so he had been concerned about a deficit; Mr Gibbs drank far too much rum, after all.

Sand slipped out the bottle, but the void of feeling inside the cellar changed; there was a ripple of a cold negativity, and Jack spun around as the words cut through the still air. The voice was familiar, in a way that certain things are; it pressed against his mind with a hint of nostalgia, as though recalling something from a dream, or a long-distant memory.

“Time’s run out, Jack.”

Raising the lantern, Jack crept closer to the source of the icy feeling, curious but also a little concerned about what he would find: he didn’t have enough rum to act completely brazen, and most of his crew would be sleeping, those not on watch at least so he didn’t need to keep up the façade. It was an easy mask to wear, and in so many ways, not really a mask anymore; but that didn’t change the fact that Captain Jack Sparrow was a legend, and there were expectations to be upheld.

As this thought crossed his mind, Jack caught sight of the speaker. The face was a man who had known him before the mask had been in place.

“Bootstrap.” He whispered, looking at the pale face, trying to see if it truly did resemble Will. “Bill Turner.”

For a moment, it was Will he saw; in profile with the serious expression. Then the man turned his head, all the illusion was lost with the sight of the blue eyes that pierced him with a startling jolt, and the sea creatures growing on him; it put him in mind of the bottom of the Pearl, when they had had to shore her to scrape her clean.

“You look good, Jack.” The man looked him up and down, a grin flitting across his pale lips. 

“Is this a dream?” Jack asked hopefully, wondering where his old friend had come from. It would explain why Jack couldn’t sense his emotions, as he could with everyone else.

“No.”

“I thought not. If it were, there’d be rum.” He must have looked put out, because Bill held up an arm, a bottle in a tight grip at the end.

“You got the Pearl back, I see.” Bill said, and with the lantern closer, Jack could finally see some colour in the man, a redness in his eyes and around the… life on his cheek. Was that a starfish?

“I had some help retrieving the Pearl, by the way, from a handy sentinel who was desperate to go sailing.” Jack frowned at the bottle, looking inside to see if anything was in there. He broke a solid lump of sand off the spout. “Your son.”

“William.” Bill’s eyes widened as he looked up at Jack, who took a swig. It was actually very palatable, this rum. “He ended up a pirate after all… and a sentinel?”

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your carbuncle?” Jack asked, ignoring the unspoken questions shining in Bill’s eyes. 

“He sent me. Davy Jones.”

“Ah.” Breathed Jack, fear splitting through; his mind began to race, thinking of different ways to avoid the fate that was in store. He wanted no position on the Flying Dutchman. It was a ship of dead men, and Jack was not dead… and he had no idea what it would to the bond he shared with a handsome, green-eyed commodore. “So it’s you then.”

Jack sat heavily down, still trying to think of his options, but it was hard when he couldn’t get his thoughts in place. The pirate hadn’t been able to think clearly for many months now, since James Norrington had stopped chasing him and apparently headed back to Port Royal. Jack had taken the rejection of his bondmate hard, trying to accept the fact that the Navy wouldn’t allow even a commodore to waste time chasing one man. 

“He shanghaied you into service, eh?” Jack said lightly, now trying to get rid of the memory of a wry smile on thin lips. 

“I chose it.” Bill replied, apparently unaware that Jack wasn’t terribly interested in what had happened to him, Will had mentioned what had happened to his father after the mutiny and what happened next was obvious anyways, because what undead man wanted to remain at the bottom of the ocean for however long it took Barbossa to fetch back every bit of gold spent. “I’m sorry for the part I played in the mutiny against you, Jack. I stood up for you. Everything went wrong after that. They strapped me to a cannon. I ended up on the bottom of the ocean, the weight of the water crushing down on me. Unable to move; unable to die, Jack. And I thought that even the tiniest hope of escaping this fate, I would take it. I would trade anything for it.”

“It’s funny what a man will do to forestall his final judgement.” Jack said, his voice probably came across as uncaring. No matter, Jack found it very hard to care about the fate of a man who didn’t feel real. 

“You made a deal with him too, Jack.” Bill stepped in front of him, stopping the captain from hunting out more rum. “He raised the Pearl from the depths for you. Thirteen years, you’ve been her captain.”

“Technically…” Jack tried to stop him, but Bill wouldn’t halt. He kept stepping closer, causing the pirate to edge back as he tried to hold his head up and act as though this wasn’t intimidating.

“Jack. You won’t be able to talk yourself out of this. The terms what applied to me apply to you as well.” Those blue eyes darkened as the man leaned closer in, the light from the lantern no longer reaching them. “One soul bound to crew one hundred upon his ship.”

“Yes, but the Flying Dutchman already has a captain so there’s really no-” Jack’s heart was thundering in his ears, limbs trembling as he tried to move further back, into the wall. 

“Then it’s the locker for you!” Shouted Bill as the rum cellar seemed to shrink in size, the walls too close as Bill pressed in. “Jones’ terrible leviathan will find you and drag the Pearl back to the depths and you along with it.”

“Any idea when Jones might release said terrible beastie?” Jack asked, and he would have been impressed with how steady his voice was, if it wasn’t for the blanket of fright that was settling over him.

“I already told you, Jack. Your time is up.” Bill clasped his hand, and the horrible chill moved from the feeling in his mind, to a more physical sensation on his hand. “It comes now, drawn with ravenous hunger to the man what bears the black spot.”

Said black spot erupted on his hand, like a worm working its way out of his skin. The flooding of the Pearl back into his senses as Bill Turner disappeared did naught to quench the terror that seized Jack. 

“On deck, all hands. Make fast the bunt gasket!” He yelled, thoughts of scraps of cloth, mysterious keys and even pretty Navy men, all gone from his mind as he raced up to the main deck, shouting as he went. “On deck! Scurry!”

The extreme alarm that rang through him was likely being pushed out and into the minds of his crew as Jack failed to keep any control over his own abilities. Better that they were startled into action anyway.

“Scurry! I want movement! Movement! I want movement! Lift the skin up! Keep your loof! Haul those sheets!” He needed everyone on deck. The Pearl was the fastest ship in these waters, with the wind. That meant that they had to harness the wind. That meant everyone needed to be working!

The crew reacted appropriately, some not even bothering to tug their boots on as Jack’s trepidation sent them up on deck and into the rigging. 

“Run them. Run! Keep running! Run as if the devil himself and itself is upon us!”

“Do we have a heading?” Gibbs asked, hurrying over to Jack.

“Run! Land!” Out the way of the Kraken. 

“Which port?” The quartermaster asked, apparently not realising how dire the situation was. 

“I didn’t say ‘port’, I said ‘land’!” snapped Jack, hands gripped the wood of the Pearl as he tried to express himself clearly. “Any land!”

Not even when Monkey-Jack stole his hat would the pirate allow them to stop. Jones’ leviathan didn’t need daylight to strike. They had to reach safety. He’d take Port Royal and the risk of hanging over this.

They needed to escape.

\---------

James stared at the musicians as they played enthusiastically, the drunken grins on their faces never fading, even as the men around them erupted into yet another attempt to sing along. But for all his staring, he didn’t see them. It felt like a long time since he had seen anything.

Another swig of rum. He scratched his beard. It itched. He’d never had a beard before.

No one here cared what he looked like, and the rum helped suppress his senses. It didn’t help with the guilt though; no amount of alcohol seemed to make a dent in it. He thought of Theodore Groves, only just regaining consciousness the last time that James had seen him. The man had been badly injured, saving James who had apparently zoned out when the Dauntless had lost the battle with the hurricane. 

Gillette had not forgiven him. He had not realised his two lieutenants were so close, but Gillette had not spoken a word to him that did not relate to naval business since they had hobbled back to Port Royal. 

The pain of having two men in his pack angry with him would have been hard enough to deal with, even if he had had the support of the others; but Weatherby Swann had been disappointed in James’ determination to capture the pirate, especially after allowing the pirate to escape in the first place. He had stated clearly that decisive action one way or the other would have allowed James to avoid the deaths that stained his hands now. If he had captured Jack on the Isle du Muerta, or if he had truly let him go and not chased him, then those men would have lived on. Even the memory of the governor speaking those words had power to turn his stomach. He took another drink.

Turner hadn’t been any more understanding of his actions, sure that he was blindingly loyal to the Navy, and as such would hang Jack if he ever caught him. James, struggling with the separation from his guide, had avoided them. And then Elizabeth radiated a frustrating mixture of joy and sexual desire at all times, and it was so strong that it affected all around her. James hadn’t bothered talking to them about his need to capture Jack because he couldn’t think around them. 

James had had to deal with the struggles of his distant pack while battling illness; his humours had been become unbalanced upon his return to Port Royal and the doctor had given him Hiera Picra to purge his body of the excess. The mixture did its job as a purgative drug. 

He had been docile when ill, but only because he had been unable to keep his senses under his own control. Without Groves to bring him back to himself, James had done little voluntarily. By the time his humours had balanced out, he had been in Port Royal for a month and news of his sentinel status had spread around the fort. Mullroy and Murtogg had visited him in his home to inform him that word had been sent to England. 

That night, James had chosen to flee. The Navy would hang him if they caught him, for unbonded sentinels were not allowed to serve. 

The journey to Tortuga had not been easy, the crew of the merchant ship may have not realised who he was, but they had guessed he was a sentinel. His tendency to zone out, then growl and snarl at those who touched him must have given it away.

Once at the pirate port, his fortunes remained unchanged. He struggled not to zone out, desperate not to lose himself in the authentic feast for his senses that was Tortuga; and people quickly realised he was a half-feral sentinel without a guide present. After James had only just managed to stop short of ripping a man to shreds for pick-pocketing him, he was left alone with a mug of rum in front of him. He didn’t know who was buying the rum, but it was effective in keeping him quiet. For the most part, no one bothered him and he didn’t bother them; people got to know that this tavern (the name of which James didn’t actually know, he had simply staggered in one day and only left when he needed to visit the alley) was to be avoided if you wanted violence. 

In his more lucid moments, James supposed it had been a few months since he had settled into his strange existence. Months since he had left Port Royal in the dead of night. He hadn’t bothered to resign, hadn’t bothered to leave instructions on what to do in his absence, or who to follow while more officers sailed to the Caribbean. They were going to kill him, and Gillette would keep Port Royal safe in the meantime. Instead, he hid in Tortuga. His body stagnating in the same place as his mind wandered into the spirit world, safe from the assault on his senses, and his bond to Jack Sparrow was easier to feel in a place where distance meant nothing. 

Rufus, his fox was curled up with him, no matter which world he was in, and occasionally they were joined by a small black cat. 

There was a deep need within him at all times, to sail on the seas until he found Jack. It hurt. The pain stabbing through his mind at times, like a knife taken to threadbare clothing. He couldn’t bring himself to move though. He caused pain and misfortune everywhere he went. At least here, James kept brawls from occurring; Tortuga had somewhere safe for men to drink, and James could convince himself to remain here, his misery rooting him down.

\---------

There had only been four men officially sign on to crew the Black Pearl, but Joshamee Gibbs wasn’t overly concerned about numbers just yet. Captain Jack Sparrow was a legend, and after they had left the tavern (oddly restrained though it was) other men had been asking questions. There would be enough men to split the watch into at least three. 

Gibbs kept glancing curiously at his captain though; the man was indeed acting in a manner more unexpected than usual. Gibbs was aware that something had changed when they had retrieved him from the Isle du Muerta nearly six months ago; something had happened and now the infamous pirate captain had developed a tendency to look over his shoulder. 

Gibbs knew that Jack was a guide, had known since Captain Teague had introduced his small child to a young Navy man with an unfortunate fondness for rum, so many years ago. It sometimes struck him as a little bizarre when he thought of the young lad Jack had been, and the man he had grown up to be. Some men did indeed resemble their fathers, for all that Gibbs’ father had wanted to be a fanciful buck; after all, Jack was a pirate, like Teague. Both well-known on the seas, albeit for slightly different reasons, both guides and both of them reacted to the world in a way that could, at times, be a little difficult to follow. 

“Captain Sparrow.” The voice of a young man called out behind them, but Jack didn’t stop as he sauntered along.

“Come to join me crew, lad?”

“I’m looking for the man I love.”

“I’m deeply flattered, son. But my- wait, Elizabeth?” Jack turned, apparently recognising the lad.

“I know Will came looking for you.” Up close, Gibbs could see the woman underneath the guise, but her attention was focussed on Jack.

“Hide the rum.” Jack instructed, before turning to talk to her. Gibbs hid his bottle and scurried on board, recalling Jack’s most recent tale of being marooned. 

They had taken on a fair number of supplies, and the Pearl was heavy in the water. Gibbs supposed that their hunt for the heart of Davy Jones might take a while, and they may not have chance to return to a friendly port for a while… things would have been simpler if the mystic, Tia Dalma, had simply told them where they had to go. And how Jack was planning to find Will Turner to get the key off him, Gibbs didn’t know. 

He set about regaining some order on the ship, ordering supplies to be taken to the lower decks and packed away securely. A new pump had been installed before they had even started hunting for new crew, so thankfully there wasn’t too much to be done just yet. 

“Mr Gibbs!” the captain yelled from the dock, and the quartermaster hurried back down.

“Aye, cap’n?”

“Dear Miss Swann has told me that we have, in fact, missed a rather vital member of our crew, whom I shall be heading off to collect now. We were nearly out of rum on the way back. Check we’ve got enough.”

“We forgot…? More rum, aye.” Gibbs decided to focus on the important part, accepting the coinage off Jack and heading back into Tortuga. 

It was the Greasy Barnacle he went to, a tavern that was off the main streets; it was as quiet a place as you could find in Tortuga and the girl who ran it always gave him a good deal. Gibbs had saved her life more than ten years ago and helped her disappear from under the noses of the Navy men he had worked for.

“Alice, my love.” He grinned at her as he came in.

“Josh.” She was one of the few people who knew his first name, and the only one to use it. “You ‘ere for rum?”

“Aye. We’ve a long trip ahead of us.” He approached the bar, where two men were passed out against it. “We’ll need something to keep the spirits up and the humours balanced.”

“No doubt, my luv.” She smirked at him, holding out her hand. Gibbs kissed it, then turned it over and placed the coins into her palm. “Oi! ‘Arry! Get yer arse down ‘ere!”

“I’ll put some in a bottle too for ya.” She told him, having pocketed the money. “You’ll ‘ave to come back for it though. I won’t let Harry head through town with no arms free and no protection.”

Her brother lumbered into the room, took one look at Gibbs and headed back out again. Moments later, he returned with two large kegs. Gibbs obediently placed a hand on the pistol in his belt and they set off to the docks. 

By the Pearl, there was something of a commotion going on. Gibbs sent Harry off to load the rum before pushing his way through the crowd. 

“What’s going on?” he shouted, trying to get order back. A bit of revelry was all well and good on leave, but not when they had to be off with the tide.

“Mr Gibbs.” The captain’s face was smiling up at him, innocently. 

“Cap’n.” He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to see Jack here, but he had thought the man wanted to be off. There was an unconscious body at his feet. “Who’s this?”

“Our new passenger.” Jack hauled the man’s arm over his shoulder. Elizabeth slipped around the other side to support him. “I’ll just be taking him to me cabin.”

“Aye.” He wasn’t going to ask. “One last trip to make, then we’ll be set.”

“Excellent.” With that, the two began to haul the man up the gang plank. 

Nodding his head, Gibbs turned and left with Harry. He’d find out who the man was later, he was sure.

\---------

Jack sat at the table, staring over at his bed; thoughts of Davy Jones and terrible beasties were far off as he watched every rises and fall of the thin body before him. Not that he had any place to complain about someone being skinny; Elizabeth had punched him for even mentioning it. She had gone to work off her energy on board, and now that they had set sail, Jack had given her his compass and settled into his cabin.

James Norrington. Ex-commodore, apparently. Elizabeth had told him how they had woken up one day to find James had disappeared and that everyone in Port Royal seemed to have their own theory of what had happened.

She hadn’t gotten around to explaining her own theories, but Jack didn’t really care. The man was here now, and Jack would get some bloody answers from him when he woke up. Thoughts of fever and sickness danced before him, but James had moved into a sleep for now. It had been a surprise to be hauled through Tortuga to the tavern where they had actually been, even more so to be led to a table at the back. He’d seen his spirit guide first, brushing herself up against a pair of worn boots. The boots had belonged to the last person he had expected to see: James Norrington.

Now that he had the time to think about it, he knew that their bond needed strengthening; the fact that he’d been in the same room as his sentinel without realising it only proved that. For now though, he kept his distance. It wasn’t easy, his own body longing for a connection, but he would wait. He was a patient man, and Jamie was a gentleman; he wouldn’t want to wake up with Jack adhered to him.

Gibbs had been surprised when Jack had mentioned who their guest was, but he had simply said that at least the man was a good sailor. Once the man had realised that James Norrington was aboard and to be placed in Jack’s cabin, he’d stated ‘Th’ commodore’s yer sentinel then, aye?’ and had headed off to make sure the ship was ready to make sail.

Surely he could check the lad over for injuries though; who knew how long he’d been in Tortuga all on his onesies. The idea of a zoning sentinel living by himself in that particular port was a concern and Jack scooted quietly over to the bed. James didn’t even stir as he pushed the thick, grimy hair back. 

The dirt on his face didn’t bother Jack, who was more than used to the build-up of filth that sailors, those outside the Navy in particular, gathered. It didn’t detract from his attractiveness at all, though the sunken skin was admittedly a less pleasing view than he remembered… and still dreamt of; the pale skin flushed red by arousal and the scratching of Jack’s beard as James cried out beneath him…

Jack shook his head to displace the memory as he tugged the ratty remains of the wig off; pinching it between index finger and thumb, Jack curled a lip in distaste. Jamie had done well in the Navy, and he seemed to have suffered for leaving it. However, the sentinel was aboard the Black Pearl now, things would be even better here for him than they had been in Port Royal; the captain was confident of his ability to be better than those who would take the idea of freedom and weigh her down with rules.

“What- you? Stop…” slurred the deep voice of the former commodore, as Jack’s fingers slid to the buckle on his chest.

“Jamie? Shh…” Jack hushed in a soothing voice as he stood up and went to get his rum from the table. 

“Jack?” James whispered, one hand going up to his head and pressing heavily against it, before dropping to the side with a thump. It was too dark in the cabin to see the colour of the eyes that looked up at him, but Jack could easily recall the green essence of the ocean that they bore. 

“Aye. Yer safe aboard me Pearl.”

“I can hear her.” James mumbled, eyes sliding shut. As Jack momentarily thrilled that James could apparently feel the enchanted nature of the Black Pearl, the man’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “It smells like death and apples in here.”

“Death and- … an odd combination that I shall blame on the previous occupant.” The thought of Barbossa haunting his cabin in such a way was a truly unsettling notion. “I’ll have the place aired out.”

“Jack?” James swung his legs to the floor, head hanging as his skin tinged green under the dirt. “Where are we? Why aren’t we out at sea?”

“We are at sea, luv.” 

“We’re in the shallows.” James raised his head, a frown marring his features.

“I…” Jack hesitated. Should he tell the man the truth? Out of everyone, this was someone he wanted to tell fantastical stories to, he wanted James to look at him with awe; out of everyone, this was someone he wanted to tell the truth to, he wanted the man to look at him and know who Jack Sparrow actually was.

“Jack?”

“What do you know of Davy Jones?”

“The captain of the Flying Dutchman? That he crews a plague ship and cannot make port.” James gave him a puzzled look.

“And what of the Kraken?”

“The Kraken? It’s a myth.”

“Not quite.” He looked over at the man, still looking bizarrely pitiful. “Maybe this can wait. You’ve just woken up. Are you ill, luv?”

“Not anymore.” James replied, and Jack wondered if his thin body could be attributed to an earlier illness rather than a lack of ability to take care of himself while in Tortuga. “What’s this about Davy Jones?”

“I have a debt to settle with him.” Jack stood up and sat next to James on the bed, pressing an arm against the man and feeling him relax slightly in response.

“Money?” 

“Souls.” Jack grimaced, feeling the disgust lance through his sentinel. “I’m after a way to avoid paying up.”

A jolt of amusement went through James at first, but it faded quickly away as the serious look on Jack’s face must have informed him that the captain wasn’t joking. 

“Souls?”

“Aye. People. I was supposed to have one hundred souls collected for him by the end of my thirteen years as captain.”

“What?” James’ puzzled look reminded Jack that the former commodore didn’t actually know the whole story…. And that Jack had resolved to tell him the truth, no matter how difficult.

“I… It’s been just over thirteen years since I turned pirate. Did you know that?”

“You weren’t always pirate?” James shifted on the bed, moving to the top so he could lean against the headboard. He seemed to become more alert as time went on.

“I was born pirate, luv. But, I had me rebellious years and worked as a merchant sailor for a spell. Even got me own ship, The Wicked Wench, she was called back then.” Jack shook his head at his naivety, but Beckett had been a persuasive man.

“Not the Pearl?” James’ voice was teasing, and there was a light smile on his handsome face; Jack’s eyes dropped though and he looked at the rum bottle in his lax hand.

“I worked for the East India Trading Company and what they had me doing… well, I went back to the old ways, stealing a hundred slaves away from them.” He managed to raise his dark eyes to James’ soft ones as the man listened, but didn’t interrupt. “They branded me a pirate, burnt me ship and sank her.”

“Jack.” James clearly heard the pain in Jack’s voice. Taking a swig of rum, Jack decided he was allowed to take comfort where he could find it and got up to sit himself beside James.

“It was me ship.” He whispered, still recalling the horror as Beckett’s men captured him. “But I got her back.”

“Davy Jones. He got your ship back.” James had obviously been listening and his sharp mind had settled on the right conclusion. “The Black Pearl.”

“Aye. Burnt both the paper with her name on and the box it was in, tossed the ashes overboard then christened her The Black Pearl.” He grinned tightly, but leaned into the other man when a hand squeezed his leg. “His price was one hundred souls.”

“For the hundred slaves that you freed.”

“Aye.” There was silence for a moment as James processed what he had been told; but Jack couldn’t stand it. Remembering the helplessness had made him restless, so he turned to the sentinel. “Your turn to tell a story, luv.”

“About me?”

“Something interesting.” It was kind of sweet how perplexed James looked, like he couldn’t possibly perceive anything he did as worthy of interest. 

“You’re as bad as the marines when they meet in the taverns. I don’t really have any stories, and Gillette-” James cut off, a harrowed look flitting across his face.

“Gillette? Your lieutenant.”

“Not anymore. He was so angry with me, the last time we spoke.”

“Why?” Jack reached out and took James’ face, the distress still sharp, even though he had apparently left Port Royal a fair while ago.

“Did you know I wanted to be a shantyman when I was younger?”

“A shantyman?” James’ attempt to steer the conversation was successful. 

“Yes. I started to work for the Navy when I was ten, but before that my uncle used to take me with him.” James smiled, the light expression suited him well. “He was captain of a merchant ship.”

“Enjoyed that?”

“Yes. I would have happily worked for him, but father is an admiral and two of my brothers are in the Navy too. It was expected.” James looked directly at him, a wry smile on his lips. “My other brother works for a bank.” 

“Urgh.” Jack wrinkled his nose in mock disgust, making the other laugh. “You didn’t want to be a Navy man then, luv?”

“I wanted to sail, but I also wanted to sing. A whistle doesn’t have quite the same feel to it.” The man sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment. “There is nothing like it, and I used to go sailing with my uncle every time I had leave with the Navy.”

“You could always be shantyman here.” Jack smiled gently, the thought of James’ deep, strong voice calling out shanties filled him with warmth; a sense of home. It was a shame he only had two more days to get rid of the Flying Dutchman.

“There aren’t enough men, and we are running. I’ll not sit on the knightheads and sing when I could be helping.”

“A shantyman is a help, luv.” It was actually as effective at motivating men to work as the promise of an extra portion of rum. 

“Perhaps I can do both… I’ll think about it.”

Jack grinned and pressed his lips to James’ temple before he could help himself. He’d had a few decent shantymen in his time, but not for years now. The Pearl loved the rhythm that shanties inspired, and with a good singer, the sea and the wind would join in; naval ships sucked the joy out of sailing.

“Come on, luv. Let’s get some grog.” He stood up, and turned to watch James stagger to his feet. He ran a hand through his unclean hair, scowled at his stained clothing and then marched out. Jack smirked fondly and followed; the novelty of having his sentinel back enough to drive the fear of Davy Jones from his mind, at least temporarily. 

\---------

The bond between James and Jack still needed strengthening, James was perfectly aware of that; he could feel the strain of it when he was up in the rigging and Jack in the rum cellar, as had happened a few hours ago. However, James mused as he worked on crowning the ends of a rope, he was going to make no move to lie with the man when he could not stop flirting with Elizabeth. 

Instead of looking over at the captain, he watched he kept glancing over at the men turning the capstan; they weren’t singing. It had taken James years to unlearn the behaviour, for his uncle had had him singing shanties whenever they did labour, without fail; therefore, when James had joined the Navy, not singing when he walked around the capstan, or when he hauled roped was nearly impossible. 

For the first few years, James had had to sing under his breath to keep the rhythm, along with a few other sailors; shanties were not permitted aboard naval ships as there was a chance that orders would be drowned out by them. As a man, he understood the importance because it was, at times, hard enough to be heard over the roar of the sea; as a boy, however, it had seriously dented his enthusiasm for the Navy. He had even considered leaving it and becoming a merchant sailor instead, if only he had not feared his father’s disappointment.

It was the name that pulled James’ attention over to the trio as they conversed on the main deck.

“Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company.” Elizabeth’s voice indicated that she didn’t know Beckett; there was no real malice in it.

“Urgh!” Jack’s face was a picture of true disgust. 

“Will was working for Beckett and never said a word.” Gibbs had the right amount as revulsion as he spoke. 

As Jack grimaced and rubbed his brand, James finished his knotting and settled down near the Pearl’s _officers_ to swab the deck. He wanted to be near Jack, but without any of them noticing him; there was something to being a nobody aboard a ship; he got to leave the decision making to someone else, he got to spend time aloft, he did not have to uphold naval standards every time a sailor could see him. 

As they discussed Beckett wanting a chest, which he planned to find using Jack’s compass, James considered the man. Cutler Beckett was someone James had only met twice, but that had been two times too many. 

As children, some people had their souls split in two, and the other half would reside in another; then when they were older, that person would have a soul mate. There were rumours that Cutler Beckett’s soul had been unable to split in two, so the whole thing went to another person, leaving him with a void where his spirit was supposed to reside; an _anti-guide_ , men called him. He had no concept of emotions, beyond how to use them to manipulate people; no conscience, no guilt, no understanding of people as anything other than pawns in a game he was playing. 

As Gibbs headed off, desperate to get more speed out of the sails, James watched Jack press close to Elizabeth, asking how she had acquired letters of marque. Their flirting went up a notch as Elizabeth tried to get the letters back from the captain, 

“As I said.” Whispered Jack, his voice smooth in a way that James would usually appreciate. “Persuade me.”

The former commodore let out a snarl, which distracted them both. They were both guides with a soul bond to a sentinel, and here they were mocking those bonds by leaning so close to each other. Still kneeling on the deck, he clenched his hands in his coat. 

He had resolved not to lie with Jack, nor would he drag the man back to his cabin and force him to notice James properly. The man was a pirate, and if he had no honour then James would have nothing to do with him. It helped that the guides had taken a step back from each other, but apparently the half-feral look in James’ eyes was of interest to the captain.

“Jamie, luv?” The man wasn’t looking at her anymore, James realised with a triumphant smirk. “I think we need to have a word, savvy?”

Standing tall, James headed into Jack’s cabin. The pirate followed him in, then shut the door behind them. 

“Luv?” Stepping close, Jack reached out a hand to touch James’ face. 

Need flooded James, and he pressed his lips to Jack’s, connecting them as he had desired to do since he had woken in the man’s bed a day earlier. The pirate grunted in surprise, then wrapped his arms around James’ shoulders to pull him close, sliding a leg up around the taller man’s hip as he was pushed against the wall.

The taste of rum and spice flooded his mind as Jack’s mouth opened under his assault, though the fingers that tangled into his hair prevented him from getting lost in the flavour. Abruptly, James pushed the pirate away to strip off his clothing, hands deftly pulling the baldric over his head and dropping it to the floor. Jack smirked as the man undressed him, quietly assisting with laces and then stepping out of his boots when lust fogged James’ mind beyond the task. 

James could hear his heartbeat though, was in fact tuned into every noise the other man made; he could tell that arousal was burning through his guide’s veins as rapidly as it surged through his own. There was a light sheen of sweat on Jack’s tanned skin, and James swept across the gap to taste: salt, dirt, and something that was just Jack. He tasted like the ocean, and James was a sailor; he was already addicted.

Pausing only at Jack’s insistence that he remove his own clothing, James blanketed the handsome body with his own, for once unselfconscious about his own form, skinnier but more tanned than the last time they had lain together.

As hot limbs encircled his body, James thrilled at the press of naked flesh and endeavoured to feel as much of Jack as he possibly could; his hands groped his lover, roaming down the muscled back to firm buttocks as they writhed together. 

“M-May I borrow a piratical term and say: Prepare to be boarded?” Moaned the sentinel, before licking along Jack’s neck and feeling the pulse beneath his tongue. 

“No self-r… respecting pirate would say that, luv.” Jack replied, eyes glassy as anticipation blazed through him. “I’ve oil in a chest; one me cat’s sat on.”

James ripped himself away, the need to couple putting haste into his movements. The cat stepped off the chest, her eyes focussed even as her charge panted into the rough sheets, backside thrust out as a delectable treat for his lover.

Swallowing, the tall man stalked over to the bed with his heart thundering as his whole body quivered with desire. Jack was beautiful, both in his appearance and in his confidence; he could probably feel how he was affecting his mate because James was entirely unable to hide his appetite. 

“Just in you?” James asked in a voice so deep it was almost a growl as he tried to recall what Jack had done to him so many months ago.

“Lots of oil, luv, ’t’s been a while.” 

Refusing to bow to his nerves, James coated his fingers and began to prepare Jack; his senses aided him in knowing how ready his lover was as much as they hindered him, saturated in want as he was. 

“Come on, Jamie.” Pleaded the pirate, as the former commodore continued to move his fingers. “I’m good, let’s go!”

“R-Right.” And desire warred with fear as he wondered if Jack was truly ready, his erection wilting slightly as he recalled the pain of his first time.

“Jamie?” Voice clearer, Jack turned over to look at him and comprehension dawned on his face. “I’m ready, savvy?”

“Yes.” But his mind was no longer clouded by the need that had surged into him when he had seen his guide flirting with another. He sat back and stared at Jack, a sudden misery making his chest jerk as his eyes burnt slightly. 

“James.” Jack gave him a gentle smile, before sliding forwards into his lap; for all that James’ arousal had waned, Jack’s cock was still standing proud. “I only do what I want. Trust me.”

Jack kissed him, their lips joining in a soft caress as the pirate stroked his lover. James could feel Jack pressing his need into his mind, tempting him in a slow but relentless assault. The scrape of teeth against his neck jolted him, and James slid a hand up into Jack’s hair to hold the back of his head.

No words were spoken as Jack raised himself up before carefully lining James up. Brown locked onto green as James’ cock penetrated the pirate’s body, the smaller man having control over the speed. 

It was like nothing James had ever imagined, for all that he had tried to avoid contemplating sex in any way. It was almost as overwhelming as being on the other end of the act, and for a moment James struggled not to lose himself in the sensations. He moaned loudly, burying his face into Jack’s neck as he held still, barely holding onto the shred of thought that told him to be careful.

Jack’s whimper, and the desire that shot through James with it (his own, or Jack’s, he could not tell) caused the sentinel to fall back into the blankets, hips thrusting up and Jack rode him with a desperation borne of separation; their bond strengthening as both their bodies and their emotions connected.

The whirlpool of desire dragged James under and he came hard, filling his lover with the evidence. Above him, Jack moaned wordlessly as he stroked himself to completion, his release staining James’ chest before the man collapsed forwards.

James whimpered quietly, wanting to say something but having no ability to make his mouth work.

“Sleep.” Slurred Jack as his body relaxed heavily against the sentinel. James grunted and allowed his eyes to slide shut.

 

\---------

“Beckett is in Port Royal.” James plunged into a conversation that Jack had no interest in at the moment. 

“That is not a name I want to hear when I’m lying against you without a stitch on me, Jamie.” Jack’s voice was dry in response. He was sure James had a reason for considering the man, but there was such thing as an opportune moment; there were two actions appropriate in this moment, sleeping or rolling over and having another round. 

“If he’s in control of the Navy in Port Royal, then he is in charge of Groves and Gillette... and possibly even the governor.”

“More men I don’t want to consider in bed.” Grumbled Jack, but he rubbed his eyes and forced himself awake. “What about them, luv?”

“Jack… Groves in an unbonded guide, and Beckett has no soul.” The man’s green eyes were wide as considered the situation. “And Gillette, he wears his emotions out in the open. Neither of them are fond of me now, but I cannot leave them in his care.”

“Jamie…” He thought for a moment, glancing at the cat that was staring at him, and the fox beside her, pacing nervously.

“And then there are others to consider. Weatherby Swann, for example. How can I help him from here? Or Mullroy and Murtogg, they’re foolish, but they were my men.” James sat cross legged, but his distress diverted Jack’s attention from his form. The younger man was getting more and more worked up. Jack could feel the Pearl’s concern, and he echoed the sentiment for her, taking the man into his arms and holding him.

“Once I’ve sorted out Davy Jones, I’ll look to what Beckett is doing. We need priorities, luv.”

“You say the Kraken is after you? Get to land and you’ll be safe. I need to be in Port Royal, the people there need me.”

“You don’t know that. For all you know, foolish Gillette may have discovered a wise streak and developed a heroic plan to save your bonnie town.” He made no comment on making port himself, memories of the Pelegostos still too fresh in his mind. Land was no more a safe haven than the sea was; at least here he had the Pearl.

“I doubt it.” James grimaced, as though remembering something that called the unlikelihood of Jack’s claim. 

“After I get the chest and call off the beastie, luv.”

“How will the chest help with that?” Ah, Jack realised, they never did finish that conversation.

“It’s what’s in the chest that’s gonna help us, luv.”

“And what is that?” James raised his brow.

“The heart of Davy Jones.”

“Oh please.” The man rolled his eyes. “The heart of Davy Jones?”

“Aye.” His cat swatted at the fox, making him stop his pacing and settle down beside her. 

“I’m listening.” Clearly sceptical, but James was at least prepared to put aside his own, Navy-bred doubt.

“You see, ‘e was in love with a goddess.” James scoffed, but lay back down beside Jack and turned to face him. “Bonded to her.”

“He was a guide? Or a sentinel?”

“Sentinel.” His mind went to Will, wondering if the man really was resourceful enough to get the key out from someone will keen hearing… Jones had once had a strengthened sense of smell, but Tia Dalma claimed that was now diminished; probably the lack of a nose.

“His guide was a goddess then?”

“The deities that deign to drift about this good world are all guides. They can…” he waggled his hands above his head, trying to find the right world, “take the place of yer one true guide, if they want.”

“So she displaced his actual guide?” James rolled onto his belly, propping himself up on his elbows. He looked so much like an eager young boy, discussing secrets that he ought not be privy to, despite the beard, the bare skin and the dirt that still clung to him; Jack shifted to press a hand to the man’s shoulder blade, feeling the bone underneath rough, scarred skin.

“Depends on who’s telling the story.” He didn’t actually know the answer to that. Some say she fell in love and killed Jones’ guide, others say that Jones killed his guide, and she was drawn to his repentant soul. “But, she was his guide and she promised to meet him once every ten years, which was the only time he could make port.”

“It was horrible spending months separated from you.” James sighed and the burst of sympathy from him surprised Jack; he’d never really considered Jones as anything other than a criminal, even when he had bartered for the raising of the Wicked Wench. 

“Well, she betrayed him.” The sentinel startled at the idea, his breath catching in horror. “Aye. She was the sea; changing, harsh, untameable.”

“I can’t imagine! To be his guide, to make that promise…”

“She was the sea, luv.” To sail the sea was freedom, but trying to control it always ended badly; ruin, disaster, misery, bad luck… It was never a good idea. “And he fixed this by cutting out his heart.”

James pulled a face at that. “And lived?”

“I don’t know how it works.” And he didn’t particularly want to ask, he mused with a wave of his hand. “ ’e just didn’t want to feel that pain anymore.”

“Understandable, but you know feelings come from the soul, not the heart, right?”

“Didn’t say ‘e was successful, did I?” James settled on the pillows again, and Jack pressed up against him. 

“So, it’s his heart you’re after? Is that what is in the chest?”

“Aye.”

“Will it really help?” James asked, his voice starting to become drowsy as Morpheus pulled him in.

“Leverage, Jamie.” That would be why Beckett wanted the chest, of course; to have some control over the untameable sea, but he didn’t mention it to James; the man was asleep, his body tired after their activities, his mind tired after their discussion and his own distress. 

They could probably go to Port Royal and usurp Beckett once they had gotten rid of the Kraken; the governor wouldn’t arrest him if he brought Elizabeth and William back with him. He dozed against James for a while, thinking up different plans for how to save Port Royal, preferably in some way that made James a hero; he’d like that. If the lieutenants he had left behind really thought so little of him, then having James come to their rescue from Beckett would surely help. 

Thoughts of James challenging Beckett to a duel, complete with a daring fight that Jamie won occupied him for a while, but a coldness spreading across his palm startled him away. In horror, he stared as the black spot reappeared.

He’d ran out of time.

Seconds later, a cry of ‘Land ho!’ cut through his tension, and Jack jumped out of bed, racing to redress. He was heading out the cabin, jar of dirt in his hand as Jamie began to hunt for his clothing.

Standing on deck, he stared at the spit of white land sat in the turquoise water. He hated small islands like this, the memory of being marooned always came rushing back when he stood on them, looking at the Pearl. He much preferred to only leave her in dock. Quelling the fear, he collected the two fools that had once been part of Barbossa’s crew and sent them to prepare a longboat. Next, he fetched Elizabeth.

“We’re going over there?” 

“You…trust this crew, right?” Apparently she hadn’t forgotten the experience of being marooned either.

“We’re good.” 

“Are we heading over now?” James’ voice interrupted their conversation.

“You can stay here, luv.” Jack assured him, but James gave him a flat look and headed over to the longboat. “Or you can come with.” 

They headed over glossy water to the picturesque white beaches, then over sand dunes until Elizabeth started moving back and forth. 

“It doesn’t work!” She snapped, frustration colouring her tone. “And it certainly doesn’t show you want you want most.”

Jack crept over to look at the compass where it lay on the sand. He was careful not to touch it, as the arrow would only point to the good ex-commodore, but he saw it pointing to dear Elizabeth’s arse. 

He grinned.

“Yes it does.” It was easy enough to work out the location, using the three points that had been provided. “You’re sitting on it.”

Shooing her away, Jack whistled to his lover and pointed at the spot. A flat stare told him the rudeness was not appreciated, but James made himself useful nonetheless and began to dig. Watching the man as he worked the ground, Jack rather wished that he hadn’t dressed so fully; the chance to see the movement of Norrington’s muscles would truly make the trip worthwhile, even if the chest was empty. 

And there it was.

They pulled a sea chest from the hole and, by way of a shovel, opened it. Inside, there were many letters, but Jack paid these no mind; he wasn’t after the letters between Davy Jones and his lady love. He wanted the smaller chest that lay nestled amongst them.

He was so focussed on his goal that he failed to notice several details: the fear that flickered through the minds of Ragetti and Pintell as the true owner of the chest surged into the waves just off shore, the desire that emanated from James as he saw the chest and remembered the dire situation that several of his pack members were in, the appearance of another mind in the area as William Turner finally staggered over to them, his own focus for saving his father torn as he was welcomed back into his arms the guide he had missed so terribly. 

“Will!” gasped Elizabeth, before she pelted across the sand to her love. 

“How did you get here?” Jack wondered, tearing his gaze away from his lifeline.

“Sea turtles, mate. A pair of them strapped to my feet.” Will replied, evading the truth for reasons Jack didn’t yet know.

“Not so easy, is it?” He smirked, standing up and moving beside his sentinel. James’ expression was blank, as though he was just observing, but Jack could feel concern bubbling inside him as his mind likely sped through different possibilities.

“But I do owe you thanks, Jack. After you tricked me on that ship to square your debt with Jones…” the whelp waited for Elizabeth’s anticipated cry before continuing, “I was reunited with my father.”

“Oh well… you’re welcome then.” He grinned at James, but it turned to a grimace as his lover failed to react. 

“Everything you said to me, _every word_ was a lie?” snarled Elizabeth, who apparently didn’t possess the ability as a guide to tell how truthful someone was being.

“Pretty much. Time and tide, savvy?” he smirked apologetically at her, but didn’t actually verbalise it. She wasn’t far off pirate herself, she would understand.

“Jack.” She hissed angrily, stalking over to him, but the pirate was distracted by the whelp.

“Oi! What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kill Jones.” The boy replied, without a care for Jack’s own need.

“I can’t let you do that, William. Cos if Jones is dead, who’s to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, ey?” Jack drew his sword. Threatening a sentinel was always disastrous, but he was desperate. Will rose to his feet, eyes rapidly taking in the situation as he tightened his grip on the key. “Now, if you please… the key.”

“I keep the promises I make, Jack.” Will replied, taking Elizabeth’s sword from her belt. “I intend to free my father, I hope you’re here to see it.”

With a snarl, yet another sword was drawn. James pointed his own blade at the one threatening his guide.

“You’re going to side with him?” Asked Will as Jack smirked confidently. 

“Lord Beckett is a threat, hanging over the heads of half my pack. This chest is the way to free them.” 

“Jamie!” Jack yelped, throwing his lover a scowl as he stepped towards him. James’ blade changed position to aim at Jack. “You only need stay on land to remain safe, and your father, William, has survived this long. I plan to aid the people of Port Royal first.”

“James, I won’t stay on land.” He warned his sentinel, but William made the first strike and James pushed Jack out the way.

Jack jumped up, his eyes on the key in Will’s- no, now in James’ hand. He ran after them, looking for an in, but the two men moved too quickly for him; by the time he spotted an opening, it was gone again. James shoved him back into the sand.

“Don’t bother!” he snarled, and Jack rather wondered if he had a point; Jack stood no chance against two sentinels with, amongst other advantages, an increased sense of sight. They saw movements and had reacted to them before the pirate had even seen them; he needed another plan.

Leaving Elizabeth to throw rocks at the two men, Jack debated making use of her; surely any threat to her would be sufficient to distract Will… but then, he didn’t actually want an enraged sentinel after him.

Maybe the two idiots could help? While they had the advantage of being a bonded pair, they weren’t exactly quick-witted. But how could he use them? They were busy gaping at the fighting sentinels. No. He needed something else.

He headed back over to the chest, looking down at the letters inside. Some of them were pretty racy, but Jack recognised something in the writing. Sitting down, he stared hard at the page. There were still emotions tidied into the letters, as though the one had written them had been a powerful guide.

Still, with some of the plans for Jones’ next visit to port, it was no wonder the captain had been heartbroken to find his woman… this woman like the sea… Losing himself in the pages, Jack’s mouth dropped; the feelings left behind, the essence of who she was… the phrasing. 

Tia Dalma?

No wonder she had known the truth about what had happened with him. But she called herself the sea? What did that even mean? But it wasn’t important for the moment, Jack looked up to see that the chest had gone, and the pelagic men were trooping up the beach.

Reaching down, he grasped his sword and stood slowly. 

“Captain Sparrow.” One of them drawled. “You have an appointment aboard the Flying Dutchman.”

“Ah, but you need to ask yourself this: What does my captain want more?” Jack grinned at them, the expression false as he mentally disputed the numerous options open to him; the most agreeable for the moment being talking his way of out this particular problem. “Me… or the chest?”

“Where is it?” the spikes on his cheek puffed out as the crewman snarled, a prickle of fear surging through him. 

“On the island still, mate.” He replied. “But not here.”

They looked amongst themselves, and Jack encouraged the fear.

“You’d best get a move on, unless you want to end up fish food.” He gave them a blatant stare up and down, suppressing a smirk as the murmuring started and Jones’ crew turned their backs on him. 

As he picked off the ones near the back, keeping the focus on the others on the chest, Jack mused on his guide abilities. It’d be useful if he could generate new emotions in people that had not been there before, but Jack did not have the ability to recognse abilities how many minds were around him. He had the general ability to influence emotions, but he needed them to already be present. 

Thumping the pommel of his sword on the back of a head, he remembered Gibbs once telling him of a Navy guide: a man with the ability to put people to sleep without even speaking a word. He thought of his father, with the ability to project an image of himself into the minds of others, so that they could not tell which Teague was the real one. He thought of the many other guide abilities he had encountered in his time, and the various ones that would be useful in this situation.

Mainly though, he thought of James; the sentinel to whom he had just sent a crew of monstrous pirates.

Running, he headed into the trees, his whole mind centred on James. He’d give up the freedom of the ocean if it meant the man got to live. As he followed the scenes of a mindless rampage that Jones’ crew had left behind, Jack came across something curious: the chest, key still inserted. And so he knelt down and turned it. The locks clicked, and the lid opened. Inside lay the heart, beating of its own accord. 

Freedom.

He could practically taste it; the chance to sail once more on the Black Pearl, the chance to roam the seas… James would agree to join him in the end; he surely ranked above the members of his pack that had been left behind in Port Royal, those who had rejected him for chasing his mate. The younger man wouldn’t be happy about it; pack was, after all, central to a sentinel’s life. However, with time, the man would continue living. 

They would be happy!

Closing a hand around the organ, Jack pulled it out. He resisted the urge to retch at the bizarre feel, placing it in a pocket.

“Need my jar of dirt.” He muttered, turning back to the beach.

\---------

William Turner was a difficult opponent, however James was fairly confident he could win. He had nine years on the boy, and far more practical experience of fighting actual people as opposed to sparring thin air in the smithy. 

The only disadvantage he had was his own body; he hadn’t eaten anywhere near enough in Tortuga and his body had suffered for it.

In all, they seemed to be evenly matched. Until the fact that James needed to win came to light. He had a plan to aid both himself and Jack, and he had the determination to do just that. As the men sparred, they nimbly kept balance upon the turning wheel, both their senses able to keep them moving in the right direction at the opportune moments. The key had been left in the sand and no doubt one of the guides had picked it up. 

Hopefully neither would leave without their sentinels though. James knew he could convince Jack to see things his way, he just needed the chance to do so. 

If Davy Jones truly had put his heart in a box, then the leverage would surely cover more than one point. There was no reason why he couldn’t get Jones to call of the kraken and then have him threaten Beckett with it instead.

The wheel began to pick up speed, and despite James’ ability to react quickly, his body couldn’t keep up. He braced himself on the inside, one hand curled around a metal bar, the other flat against the outer slats. He shut his eyes as the world revolved, trying not to vomit even as he heard Turner yelling unhappily.

Even once they had splashed into the cool water on the beach, the world kept turning. Standing unsteadily, James looked about. 

Jack was fighting by the longboat, but seemed to be in no immediate danger. Elizabeth was confidently holding her ground, and Turner was stumbling over to her. He didn’t bother looking for Pintell and Ragetti; they would have to manage on their own.

He headed towards the boat, but the short distance was made infinitely more difficult by the voracious nature of the sand, which pulled him down every moment that he remained still. 

The jar of dirt in the longboat was missing some of its dirt; instead of aiding Jack, James treaded over to have a look. There was a thumping noise coming from the glass jar, and so James removed the heart. 

Let Jack keep the jar. Let Turner keep the chest that also lay in the longboat.

He would take the heart, return to the Pearl, find a quiet spot and summon the Dutchman’s captain. He would call the kraken off and then head to Port Royal. 

Plan finally coming together, James turned to see Jones’ crew advancing on them.

“We’re not getting out of this.” The quiver in Elizabeth’s voice made James realise how dire their situation actually was. 

They weren’t going to get back to the Pearl at this rate.

Fine. He’d just have to amend his plan. He could find a quiet spot in the shallows and summon Jones. 

“Not with the chest.” He picked it up. “Don’t wait for me.”

He didn’t imagine Jones’ crew would stop to check where exactly the heart was. They probably weren’t aware the chest had been opened.

As he ran, he heard the other’s coaxing Jack into the boat. Quietly, he cursed his guide. Of all the times for the man to decide he cared about James’ health…

Running through the trees, James tripped over a root and hit his head. Dazed, he lay still as the crew took the chest from the lax hands. Body both weak and exhausted, he could muster up no more than a whimper as it was taken from him.

He needed to give Jack more time.

Struggling to his knees, he watched as the crew left, chortling as they went. The adrenaline that had coursed through was now seeping away; the ache left as great as the one left by his guide, who was steadily returning to the Pearl.

And then James noticed a small bug, sat on a leaf. 

It commanded his attention; that small, green thing with its tiny body slowly moving as it digested the leaf it was eating. 

Small and sort of slimy…

Green…

…

The terror that shot along the soulbond brought James back to himself, and he charged through the greenery towards the water. He had to get to his guide.

Standing knee-deep in the water and sinking as the sand slowly pulled him down, James stared in horror as he watched the Black Pearl. She was a fair distance away, and while there was a longboat leaving her, James knew one thing; Jack had not left his ship.

“No.” he whispered, watching the tentacles rise, pulling the body up the side of the ship.

Guilt flooded him almost as painfully as the fear. Jack was going to die and it was his fault. He had taken Jack’s leverage.

He was to blame.

The pain that ripped through him as the other half of his soul was taken to the locker was crippling, and he would have fallen to the ground if he had been able. As it was, he froze, face going black as his portion of their shared soul attempted to follow, and its host stopped moving.

\---------

It was his spirit guide that drew his attention to the small island they were sailing past, flitting about in front of him then landing on a spyglass. Mullroy had never ignored her before, and so he picked it up and followed her.

He stopped on a small, dark figure in the distance and when she calmed, he knew this is what she was showing him. Handing the spyglass to Murtogg, he looked closely over at the figure, his friend’s hand on his arm keeping him grounded as he extended his sight.

“What is it?” Murtogg asked, curiously.

“A man.” He frowned, something about him was familiar. “I’ll tell the captain.”

“Come on, then.”

They headed over to the officer, doing their best not to wince as lieutenant Gillette scowled at them from the captain’s side. He had been in a foul mood since falling out with Groves; Murtogg claimed the argument had been over Commodore Norrington, and Mullroy was inclined to believe him. 

“Well?” The captain gave them a small smile. “You two spotted him, don’t you want to go help? Into the longboat.”

Captain Harris was a good man. He liked to keep as many of his men happy as he possibly could, and he seemed to have a good sense in terms of how to do that. The chance to go and stand on the land, even if only for a few moments was all too tempting, and Mullroy just managed to make himself walk as he hurried over to the boat.

He gasped as they approached the man though. Waist-deep in the water, green eyes staring blankly ahead out of a scruffy face and set upon a skinny body; even so changed, he recognised him.

“Commodore Norrington.” He whispered, then saw the other men in the boat startle as they heard him.

“Not commodore anymore. He left, remember?” Murtogg corrected, absent-mindedly. 

“He didn’t resign though. He just left, so I think he still counts as a commodore.”

“No.” Murtogg got out the boat, followed by the others and they began to pull. “Commodore is a post more than a rank, and now that Beckett is around, he would probably only be captain.”

At Beckett’s name, Norrington’s head turned towards him. Mullroy shuddered at the blank eyes and continued to pull. Not only was he half under water, but he was stuck deep into the sand as well.

“The governor will be pleased.” Murtogg mused as they finally pulled Norrington into the boat. “They were friends, I think.”

“What do you suppose happened?”

“Maybe his guide died? I’m keeping myself away from his mind. It hurts.” Murtogg allowed his sentinel to feel the pain that the former commodore was unintentionally projecting, and the man pulled a face.

“Least he isn’t going to drown, I suppose. Maybe returning to Port Royal will help.”

“Maybe.” But Murtogg’s face was doubtful as the marines began to row back to the ship.


	3. Chapter 3

James stared out at the ocean as it lapped against the vessels in the dock. He wanted to shut his eyes and lose himself in that other world. The pain here was unbearable, a constant buzzing in his mind that drained his energy; and yet in that other place, Jack was everywhere. He wandered about, shouting orders at himself, or… responding to orders being shouted at himself… James couldn’t tell; they all seemed real, they all had a heartbeat, and they all breathed, most of them were quirky… and yet none of them felt whole. James couldn’t feel a connection to any of them beyond a slight stirring in the back of his mind. 

He had done that. 

He had broken Jack by stealing the heart, and surely it was his punishment to see Jack so fractured. The man never acknowledged him as they sat aboard the Black Pearl in this other world; though she noted his presence, warming to his touch and singing softly to him. 

But before he settled into his stagnant life of punishment, James had a duty to perform. Aware of the heart in his pocket and the dagger in his boot, the former officer sat in a longboat. The pain that rippled through him wasn’t soothed by the sound of the water, but he worked through it, pulling until he was beside the Lapis Lazuli; she was his sloop, a small but beautiful vessel that James had acquired several years ago. He had spent his free time fixing her up from her dilapidated state, and at some point he was going to paint her…

Or, he had been going to. 

Misery rocked through him, and for a moment he was aboard the Pearl, curled up under the stairs to the poop deck and feeling desperately lonely with Jack running around. But he pushed it back. He had one thing he needed to do. Boarding his sloop, James stood by the helm and grasped the heart in his hand. 

“I would speak with you, Captain Jones.” He stated, heart still in one clammy hand, dagger in the other. He held them together, managing a wry smile as he was successful. Davy Jones stormed across the deck to stand before him, tentacles writhing in fury as the bizarre face clearly expressed the monster captain’s anger.

“Who are you?” he spat, eyes focussing on the organ.

“Sentinel Norrington.” He replied, using the appropriate title for the first time in his life. He shifted to lean casually against the railing; the pain making his body feel weak, but he was unwilling to show it. 

“And what is it you want?” Jones snapped, his tone no more pleasant for the introduction.

“Your beast ate my guide.” He replied, keeping his voice blank. “I rather feel it ought to be dead on a beach somewhere.”

“Your guide?” and for a moment, sympathy blossomed on his face, but then his eyes flicked back to the heart in James’ grasp and his expression hardened. “Then your guide is dead… how are you not?”

“Does it matter?” James asked, remembering his discussion with Jack; that a goddess had been his guide, possibly killing his True Guide to be there. He wouldn’t tell Jones that he was still with his guide…

“Consider yer request done.” Jones replied, turning to leave.

“Immediately.” He snarled in response, aware of how men forced into things found loopholes.

The captain left, and James collapsed, his strength finally gone. As he lay there, slumped on the floor of both the Lapis Lazuli and the Black Pearl, he wondered how long it had been since Jones had step foot on land. He wasn’t safe here, on the water where the man could literally emerge from the ship itself, but was he safe on land?

He sighed and shut his eyes, listening to Jack disparage himself for a slack line, the familiar rhythms of his voice acting as a point of comfort as the pain and the loneliness overwhelmed him.

\------

Theodore Groves sighed as the barmaid brought over another tankard of ale. He’d had a long day of pandering to Beckett, and the gaol was filling with pirates. The man seemed to have brought half the Navy with him and was determined to clear up ‘Norrington’s mess’… 

But it wasn’t just pirates that lined their cells, all manner of men, women, children… anyone who had any link to a pirate, be it simply that they hadn’t declared themselves against the brigands loudly enough to satisfy Beckett.

Their fear projected from the fort so strongly that it nearly crippled Groves, the numbness of alcohol never enough to block the emotion. Taking a deep drink, the man leaned heavily against Gillette before sighing again. It had been months since James had left Port Royal, months since Groves had been too injured to stop his friend and things hadn’t improved in James’ absence. 

“Are you unwell?” Gillette whispered in a low voice, aware of the strain that the prisoners had been putting on his mind.

“Can we go to the docks?” Commodore Norrington had always gone there to think, and Groves still found the place relaxing, even after all that James had done to them. His feelings on the former commodore were split in two; anger at the blind need that had driven them through a hurricane, at James for taking a Navy ship for a personal chase; and then fear for his friend, and concern for what had happened to him in the time since he had fled. The latter emotion had damaged his friendship with Gillette, but things had upon the man's latest return to Port Royal; Groves found he struggled without a friend to ground him.

“The docks? I guess.” Gillette tipped his head back and swallowed the remainder of his drink.

“Here.” Groves slid his mostly full tankard over to his friend, wanting to see him manage it a second time; which he didn’t. Groves snorted into hand as the man choked. 

“Least you’re smiling.” Gillette rasped as they staggered to their feet. “Even if I feel like you are trying to get me drunk.”

“Utter tosh.” Groves’ smile faded as they headed past the fort and the fear of the prisoners slammed back into him.

“Maybe we should go to the other side of town.” Gillette’s voice was soft beside him.

“It shouldn’t bother me.” He snapped. “Unlike other guides, I’ve never felt emotions so strongly. I can influence-”

“Shh!” hissed Gillette, his eyes wide. “Are you trying to get arrested?”

“There’s nowhere I can go to get away from them.” 

“Shall we take a boat out?” asked Gillette quietly, one hand still on his friend’s arm.

Groves nodded, and they headed down to the water. Several times, the two men had taken out James’ sloop. The first time had been because Beckett had demanded they move it or watch it sink, and since then they had gone out in it to get away from Beckett. The man unnerved Groves…

As they settled in the longboat, Groves frowned. Instead of moving away from the pain, they seemed to be edging into an ache deeper than anything he had felt before. 

“Theodore!” came a yelp from above as Gillette climbed aboard. “Hurry!”

Quickly scaling the side of the vessel, Groves gasped as he saw James Norrington. The man was on his back, eyes staring blankly up at the many stars in the sky and for a moment Groves wondered if he had zoned out on them. 

“James?” He whispered, the anger he had been festering in the months since the hurricane rapidly diminishing away as he looked down at the gaunt face of man he still considered a friend.

“Where did he come from?” Gillette murmured, crouching down on the other side of the fallen man.

“With the ships that arrived this evening?” He wondered in response. “Though, he would have been arrested, not set loose in the town.”

“I don’t think he’s in a state to break out the gaol, and if he had then I bet he wouldn’t leave all those people there at Beckett’s mercy.” Replied Gillette, sliding an arm under the man’s back and sitting him up. 

“Maybe he was with the governor?” Groves mused as they began to pull James to his feet. “You know, so that he wasn’t left on his own without being arrested.” Many of the men still respected James, they would not have sent him to Beckett.

“If he came back with the ships, then they mustn’t’ve told Beckett yet. You’ve seen what he’s like with sentinels, even bonded ones.” The idea of Beckett once again sent a shudder through Groves; he was a monster in human form.

“I know. So, I think they might have hidden him with the governor.” Groves looked at his friend, the words tumbling from his mouth as his thoughts raced on. Groves looked at his friend, the words tumbling from his mouth as his thoughts raced on. “There may be those of us who aren’t happy with him for chasing Sparrow so blindly, but I bet even you wouldn’t turn him over to Beckett.”

“Back to Governor Swann, then?”

“I guess so?”

\------

“James!” the governor’s voice was loud as he hurried down to them. “You found him.”

“Perhaps not so loud, sir?” Gillette suggested, trying to be more diplomatic in shutting the man up than he had been earlier on with Groves.

The governor brought them inside quickly and proceeded to flutter nervously behind them as they sat Norrington down in the drawing room. 

“How long has he been here, sir?” asked Gillette as Groves spoke softly to the former commodore, still trying to get his full attention.

“A little over a week.” The man moped his brow as he looked nervously over to Norrington. “Those bonded marines brought him here, Munroe and… something. I don’t know. They said not to let Beckett know about him.”

“Mullroy and Murtogg.” Corrected Groves as he turned back to the other two men.

“He’s like this most the time. When he is himself, he’s in pain.” 

Gillette nodded, managing to resist a double take as he noticed tears in the older man’s eyes; but then he remembered that Miss Swann and Mr Turner were still missing. “Does he know where your daughter is?”

“I think so, but it’s hard to get anything out of him.” The man turned an exhausted face in his direction. “He says ‘Jack’ … but not much else.”

Jack. Jack Sparrow, most likely. Groves insisted that the two men had bonded, and that was why Norrington had been unable to stop chasing him. Gillette called it nonsense; there were plenty of sentinels who found their bondmates and didn’t feel the need to be with them, even the governor’s wife had been a guide, and rumour had it she wouldn’t be in the same room as her sentinel. He had always considered Norrington’s obsession to be a mixture of lust and pride, nothing more.

Looking at the pathetic shell of a man, Gillette supposed that he would never regain the same respect he had once had for the former officer. However, he could see that his fellow lieutenant had already forgiven him, and so they would probably be spending time with Norrington anyway.

It was annoying, but Groves was his dearest friend; he wasn’t going to leave him alone with an unstable sentinel.

\------

Weatherby Swann stared at James Norrington in silence as the other man sat looking at the plate before him. There had been times over the years that Weatherby had considered James old beyond his years, and times when he had seemed younger than Elizabeth; at the moment, it was the former. The young man seemed old and tired, filled with hidden pains and the sadness of one who has experienced too much.

“Perhaps you should eat something.” Weatherby prompted, feeling old and tired himself.

“Peanut.” Muttered James, but he obediently picked up a fork and began to eat.

The governor didn’t ask though; everyone was feeling exhausted these days, and everyone had probably turned a little mad. 

“I know you’re feeling a little frustrated with being cooped up, my friend.” He sighed and looked over at the young man. “But you’ve only been here just shy a fortnight. Life will settle into normality eventually.”

James didn’t respond, instead stabbing some egg with a fork.

“Please get some rest today? Don’t go outside, or else someone is going to spot you. We are trying to help you, but you need to cooperate.”

James sipped his tea. Weatherby sighed. He had a fair amount of paperwork to get through today, but if he got through it today then he could go in late tomorrow. He’d perhaps be able to breakfast with his friend outside before going to visit the plantation.

Not that the young man was likely to say anything. He had barely spoken a word since Gillette and Groves had found him earlier in the week; though he was uncertain how welcome the change was. James has seemed to be in pain every time Weatherby had spoken to him before that, but now he seemed unaware of what was going on around him.

The governor had called the priest down to see James, and still had him visit the man as often as he could manage. Father Thomas simply stated that it was his need for his guide that made the former commodore so unlike himself. Weatherby half wished he could take James with him to the fields, where one could hear the slaves singing in loud voices; it lifted his own spirits and perhaps it would do the same for the despondent young man before him. Still, perhaps they could breakfast close enough to hear the songs. Perhaps it would help.

Of course, it was after making these plans that circumstances changed, and as the governor sat in his office he was disturbed by something he had never expected; Gillette slammed into his office, shutting the door and leaning against it with wide eyes.

“Sir!” he yelped, a horrified expression on his face.

“Lieutenant. Is something the matter?” he stood up, hurrying around the desk to stand before the young man.

“I have made… an elephantine mistake… sir.” Was he shaking? Weatherby laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and led him to a chair.

“What happened?” 

“If I had taken this without anyone noticing, perhaps it would have been a nonissue, but Theo... I had to stop him from... Well, I couldn't have him drawing too much attention.” In a tight grasp Gillette held James’ sword.

“You took this?” he knelt down beside the young man.

“He took the heart.” Whispered Gillette. “Norrington had the heart of Davy Jones, and he’s been arrested. Theodore was going to do something foolish… but I should have thought it through.”

“A heart? As in… an actual heart?”

“Yes, of course!” the boy snapped. He had to be upset, the lieutenants had never been anything but formally polite with him, barring the time they had found James wandering Port Royal.

“So… there is a heart, belonging to a … David Jones?”

“Davy Jones, but yes. I’ve heard rumours. You stab the heart, you sail the seas for the rest of time.” 

“Why would James want the heart?”

“I don’t think he… He had the heart, but Beckett took it.”

“Beckett wants to sail forever?” Weatherby couldn’t help pulling a face; he couldn’t imagine Beckett sailing forever. He was so different to James, and certain other men; he sailed, but only because he had to, not for enjoyment. The idea that Beckett wanted to roam the seas forever was unlikely.

“No? No. It’s probably for leverage.” Gillette was calming down, and he was starting to think things through. “I imagine Davy Jones would do anything to keep his life, such men often do.”

“On what charges has Beckett arrested James?”

“For being a sentinel. But Theodore decided to break him out of gaol. I figured he would need a distraction.” Gillette pressed his face into his hands. He seemed exhausted too.

“What do you need?”

“If Theodore has gotten Norrington free, I shall take him with me and we shall sail away; whether or not Theodore comes depends on whether anyone has seen him. Then… I find out what happened to Captain Sparrow, as I think Norrington needs him.”

“Jack Sparrow? That’s the Jack he keeps asking for? Lieutenant, I think he might be dead, the way James talks…”

“I can’t stay here, and Norrington is important to Theodore… he was important to me before.” The young man frowned, crossing his arms and huddling into the chair uncomfortably. “Maybe… Maybe he is again? Sparrow seems to have affected the comm- Norrington more than I thought, so maybe…”

But he stopped talking, staring at the desk with worry twisted into his face. Weatherby couldn’t help but agree; Gillette and James could not stay here. 

“Let me understand. James had the heart of Davy Jones, had kept it hidden from me all the time he was here.”

“So it seems, sir.”

“But he has once again wandered off, but this time Beckett found him.”

“Again. I said this restlessness would be a problem.”

“Now Beckett has the heart, which means…?”

“He has some control over the sea, I think. It depends which rumours are true, but the fact that the rumour of his heart being cut out is true, then I suspect others may be.”

“So now, you, James and possibly Lieutenant Groves need to leave.”

“Yes.”

“On your search for Jack Sparrow, if you happen to spy either Elizabeth or William…” Hope bubbled in him for the first time in a long time.

“I’ll send word. Will you try look out for the men here? Whoever is left behind?”

“Yes. Especially those two that bicker… they brought James here.” He could never remember their names, but he had a fondness for the men.

“Mullroy and Murtogg.” Gillette gave him a fond grin. “If you could find something for them to do far away from Beckett, I would be grateful.”

“I’m not sure how much power I have anymore.” He frowned, but nodded his head nonetheless. “Come here tonight. I’ll gather some supplies for you.”

“I’ll arrange for a distraction up at the fort.” There was a growing smile on Gillette’s face. It was curious how these Navy men relaxed once there was a plan in place.

\------

Elizabeth was brushing a hand down the mane of her spirit guide when Will let out a yell from the crow’s nest.

“Sail ‘ho!” His face appeared as he looked down at her. “Only a small ship, mind.”

Elizabeth smiled in relief; there were several terrible things about sailing with Barbossa, even though they were not aboard the Black Pearl, but if she ignored the nightmares his presence provoked, the fear of having to commit an act of piracy filled her with a fright she had not expected. There was a vast difference between reading about pirates in a book and being faced with the reality of ransacking another ship.

“Wait! We should stop!” Will’s voice called out again, and this time he came down to deck to speak to the captain. “There’s someone on that ship we need.”

Elizabeth hurried to the side of the ship, her eyes straining as she tried to see.

“Who is it?” She whispered to Will as men worked around them.

“Don’t you recognise the boat? It’s Norrington.” 

She gasped, and went back to staring at the ship. Tia Dalma had explained that they would need Jack’s sentinel if they wanted to retrieve him from the locker, that Jack would not be able to be brought back without his other half there to help. With a scowl, she watched as a man climbed down from the mast; it seemed James hadn’t suffered so much for his callous treatment of his guide. It was only when her spirit guide nickered gently behind her that she opened her mind.

James was there, but his mind wasn’t; there was an aching void where it was supposed to be and she whimpered, grasping the railings in pain. Will’s hand was a soothing balm, and she moved her attention to the other mind there. She didn’t know who the other man was, but he was exhausted.

Tia Dalma stepped up beside them, a distant smile on her face as she murmured about destiny. Elizabeth paid them no mind though as a thought occurred to her: they might have news of her father. She raced over to where the two men were boarding the ship that Sao Feng had provided, pushing past the other sailors in her need to reach the link to Port Royal.

“Lieutenant Gillette?” She startled to see the man in front of James.

“Miss Swann.” He looked bizarre out of uniform, light brown hair tussling in the wind that was no longer impeded by a wig.

“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth noted that Barbossa had taken a step back, allowing her to converse with the man without interruption.

“We had to leave Port Royal. Beckett… well, he had arrested Norrington and I had to do something before Theo acted rashly.” The man rubbed his neck awkwardly, looking terribly young with a pirate crew surrounding him; she wondered if he still had occasional nightmares about the events at the Isle du Muerta, like she did.

“So, you acted rashly on his behalf?” Will asked, and Elizabeth might have smiled, but she could feel the fear seeping out the lieutenant. 

“Yes. But as neither myself, nor Norrington have yet been killed, things seemed to have worked out.”

“They were planning on hanging the good commodore?” drawled Barbossa curiously.

“He was an unbonded sentinel in the Navy, then he was bonded to a pirate… and now he’s…” the man trailed off as he turned to glance at the silent figure behind him.

“Well, ye be welcome aboard this ship. Though, we be going to the locker to retrieve Jack.” Chortled the captain, and Gillette frowned in response.

“Sparrow isn’t dead? And that’s Norrington’s sloop. Can we possibly find a safe place to anchor her?”

Barbossa glared at Gillette, and the younger man flinched but returned the scowl until the captain turned away and grudgingly asked if anyone would like to help sail the other ship. Elizabeth immediately volunteered herself and Will. Tia Dalma agreed as she stared curiously at James, and then Gibbs, Cotton and Marty all agreed to join them. 

“James?” she tentatively approached him once they were aboard the sloop and following Barbossa across the Caribbean Sea. “James?”

The man’s eyes met her own for a moment, but then the pain increased rapidly with his lucidity. By the time Elizabeth had caught a breath and raised her eyes again, James was staring out at nothing once more. She turned and left him at the bow of the ship, instead choosing to fetch Will and go lie down with him. His presence was a comfort that she needed and his anger at her for kissing Jack, for tricking the man into staying aboard the Pearl was fading. 

\------

James sat and watched his guide in silence. He had barely spoken a word since arriving here and this world was beginning to feel more real than the other one. The guilt he felt was a constant now, but it was tempered with sadness, anger, fear and, worst of all, loneliness.

Occasionally, he saw the real world, he saw the governor fussing, Groves smiling awkwardly at him, or Gillette was standing at the helm of the Lapis Lazuli… Elizabeth was talking to Gillette at one point as pirates swarmed the deck of his little ship… and then it was cold; a bitter and biting cold that James fought to avoid. His glimpses of the real world diminished as James allowed the loneliness of the locker to embrace him.

He deserved this.

He deserved to see the fractured soul that he had damaged, he deserved to be ignored by his love… he deserved the loneliness that plagued him, though it was more painful to bear than the physical pain of the real world. His pride, his belief that he knew better than others… but he had learned his lesson. 

He sat in silence, interrupting with neither word nor action; instead he just watched.

It was his focus on Jack that allowed him to see Jack start repairing. One day, there were fewer Jacks aboard the Pearl than there had been in some time, then the day after there wasn’t even a score. Within a week, a dozen Jack Sparrow scurried about either on deck on in the rigging, but no one was below. 

James quelled the burst of pride as Jack bid the others adieu, and left the ship. Jack had repaired the damage that had been done by himself, he had done it without James. James stayed huddled by the stairs up to the poop deck; he was all alone, and even the Pearl’s soft song didn’t soothe him. He stared at the fists clenched in his lap, trying to banish the tears that threatened to spill. 

He wasn’t frightened of being alone. In fact, he was thrilled that there was finally only one Jack, and that he could no longer hear the man’s voice.

Abruptly, he was underwater, struggling to kick his legs and bring himself to the surface.

There was an arm around his chest and someone was pulling him up. As his awareness was suddenly firmly entrenched in his own body, James looked around wildly.

“Sir!” gasped Gillette, his wet hair plastered to his face as he let go of James and allowed the man to swim by himself. 

James didn’t reply, he turned and headed towards Jack. They were in the water and Jack was on land, and he could hear the Pearl moving without the sea to pull her. James was on his feet before everyone except Tia Dalma, whose name he knew without knowing how.

“Wait. Witty Jack will come back.” She smiled at him, running a finger over a white crab as she spoke.

The Pearl surged past them, and James stifled a smile at Jack; he was stood on the crosstree on the foremast, looking utterly wonderful. It was hard to not let his heart swell with love and fondness. The sentinel didn’t wait. He turned and began to head towards the water.

“Wait, lad.” Gibbs laid a hand on his shoulder. “Just wait.”

The hand remained on his shoulder as Jack rowed back to them, but it wasn’t there to physically restraint him, just to remind him to wait. The moment Jack’s feet touched the sand though, James threw off propriety and raced to meet him. He didn’t consider for a moment that Jack might not acknowledge him, might refuse to see him as he had during their time in the locker so far.

He simply ran to Jack, throwing his arms around the pirate and not caring as he tackled him back into the water.

“You’re real.” Murmured Jack, and he pulled James’ head down in a kiss that merged their souls in a passionate caress that divulged the loneliness that Jack had also suffered.

“Umm… Sir?” Gillette’s voice cut through their ardour. “Are you quite well… now?”

“Go away, boy.” Jack replied as he kissed his way across James’ face.

“Jack?” Elizabeth’s voice jolted Jack out of the moment, and James couldn’t help but return the wry grin that graced his pirate’s face.

“Elizabeth.” He gave her a false smile before standing, one hand sliding around James’ waist as the younger man stood beside him. “Mr Gibbs!” 

“Captain.” Gibbs hurried over as Jack beckoned him. Jack gave the woman a questioning glance before focussing his intense gaze on Gibbs again. The quartermaster apparently understood the question. “You’re in Davy Jones’ locker, Captain.”

“The locker.” Jack murmured, his arm tightening protectively around James.

“Jack Sparrow!” called out Barbossa, and James stepped between Jack and the Pearl’s previous captain. Jack stepped around him, keeping one hand wrapped tightly around James’, so that the other man couldn’t escape. 

“Hector! It’s been too long.” But he moved on before Barbossa could reply, apparently determined to greet everyone as quickly as possible. “Tia Dalma, out and about I see. You add an agreeable sense of the macabre to any delirium.”

“He thinks we’re a hallucination.” Turner claimed. As Jack rambled about damsels, James pressed a smug kiss to his cheek; Jack didn’t consider him a hallucination, at least not anymore.

“Jack, this is real. We’re here.” Elizabeth spoke in a soothing voice to him, and James scowled at her, unable to forget the flirting they had engaged in while he had been aboard the Black Pearl. “We’ve come to rescue you!”

“Have you now? Very kind of you…” Jack pulled James slowly back towards Gibbs. “But it would seem that as I possess a ship and you don’t, you’re the ones in need of rescuing and I’m not sure as I’m in the mood.”

“Jack, Cutler Beckett has the heart of Davy Jones!” Turner pleaded their case, Elizabeth hurrying over to put in her thoughts as Tia Dalma explained that a song had been sung… whatever that meant. 

James pressed his body up to Jack’s as guilt rippled through him. He had taken the heart, he must have given it to Beckett.

“Lord Beckett found the heart when he found Norrington in Port Royal.” Gillette stepped forward, keeping himself a distance from the pirates, but his face was just as earnest. “Miss Dalma said there is a court of pirates that you must attend.”

“Leave you all alone for a minute and look what happens!” exclaimed Jack as he scurried away from the forming crowd. “The world’s gone to pot!”

“Aye, Jack. The world needs you back something fierce.” Gibbs stated to his captain.

“And you need a crew.” Turner said, but with a glance at James, he stayed back.

“Why should I sail with any of you?” asked Jack flatly, before he smiled slightly at James. “Not countin’ you, luv. I’m not letting you go again.”

“Cap’n.” Gibbs started, one hand outstretched.

“No. Four of you tried to kill me in the past. One of you succeeded.” James fought back a snarl at the idea, his eyes quickly picking out those to blame: Barbossa, those two pirates that had worn dresses so many months ago… who else? Tia Dalma, perhaps? Turner cast an angry glance at Elizabeth, which startled James. Elizabeth had tried to kill Jack? Had she been the one who succeeded?

“Jack.” Drawled Tia Dalma as his gaze moved along the line. “Would you leave me behind, witty Jack?”

“All right, you’re in.” He then pointed to the skinny pirate. “Don’t need you, you scare me. Gibbs, you can come. Marty. Urgh.” He pulled a face at the other pirate. “Cotton, Cotton’s parrot, I’m a little iffy but… at least I’ll have someone to talk to. Who are you?”

“Andrew Gillette.”

“You put irons on me.”

“The commodore was bleeding from the head with you next to him, Pirate Captain Jack Sparrow.”

“Fair enough.” Jack glanced at James before nodding his head. “You can come then… Who are you?”

“Tai Huang. These are my men.” Came the reply.

“Where do your allegiances lie?”

“With the highest bidder.”

“I have a ship.” Jack’s face broke into a smug grin as he looked over at the Pearl.

“That makes you the highest bidder.”

“Good man. Weigh anchor, all hands. Prepare to make sail!” Jack turned and headed back along the beach. James turned his attention to Gillette as the man made his way over.

“Jack, which way you goin’? Jack?” Barbossa smirked at him, long fingers drumming across the bamboo charts he held. 

Jack curled his lip, but gestured for the others to join them. In the boat back to the ship, James recognised Gillette’s discomfort at his blatant affection for Jack by not sitting in his lap. He couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to his face though; he had been alone with the broken version of this man for a long time. To see him whole, and to be acknowledged by him was more wonderful than James could have imagined. 

Once aboard the Black Pearl, Barbossa tried to wrestle Jack for control of the ship and James punched him hard. Gillette snorted in amusement as the pirate hit the deck, but no one said anything; everyone got on with either preparing the ship to sail or keeping themselves out the way.

James stood beside his lover and watched as the former lieutenant pulled himself into the rigging with a wide grin on his face. The day passed with far more speed than James had anticipated but he had remained at Jack’s side, watching him puzzle over the charts with an intensity that, for once, wasn’t dampened by alcohol. 

“Do you know where we need to be?” He whispered as the sun edged across the sky. 

“Up is down.” Jack was scowling. “It’s maddeningly unhelpful.” 

“Sunrise sets, flash of green. I’ve only ever seen a green flash at sunset. Not sunrise.” He mused, looking over Jack’s shoulder. “And what does it mean by over the edge? I assume the words have significance.”

“Aye.” Jack murmured, his attention still centred on the charts.

“We’ve already been over an edge.” Gillette spoke from above them, arms looped through the rigging as he grinned down at them. “Do you not remember? Captain Barbossa got us lost and then we went over a waterfall.”

“No.” James frowned as he tried to recall their journey here. 

“I hope we don’t have to do it again.” Gillette grimaced slightly before climbing back up.

“I think he’s enjoying sailing.” The former commodore supposed as his friend let out a laugh from above them.

“I’ve always said the Navy take the joy out of sailing, luv.” Jack lifted his head long enough to grin at him.

“It is different to blasting a whistle and watching other men do the work.” James admitted wryly as he dropped onto a crate beside Jack. He leaned over the charts again, turning one of the circles.

It was only Gibbs brought a lantern over several hours later that James realised night had fallen. Blinking his vision back to where it was supposed to be, he noticed that Jack was slumped against the table, asleep.

“Ye shouldn’t be readin’ in the dark.” Gibbs stated as he hung the lantern nearby. 

“I hadn’t noticed.” But he accepted the point as he rubbed his tired eyes. “Is everyone in bed?”

“Most people. There’s the night watch, and then a few others still about.” Gibbs looked curiously at the charts. “Any closer to findin’ a way out?”

“I’m not. I stopped thinking a while ago, it seems.” His head hurt and he felt both exhausted and slightly ill. Glancing about again, he couldn’t see Gillette to ask the man what had happened to get them both here. Instead, he stood up and stretched in an attempt to shift the discomfort from his back normally.

Then he realised the sea had something in it once more, not the sounds of life that he was used to, but there was something…

Standing by the railings, James let out a startled cry. There were people in the water, a haunting song echoing up from the deep as the bodies moved. They were not swimming, nor were they breathing; theirs hearts did not beat and their bodies did not gurgle as they ought to, yet it was from them that the song emanated. 

A mournful tone permeated the air behind him along with a whisper of skirts; James didn’t need to turn to see the tears glistening in Tia Dalma’s eyes.

“Are they dead?” He asked, staring in morbid wonder at the spectral vision before him.

“Dey should be in da care of Davy Jones.” She stated as she came to stand beside him, looking down at the bodies before raising her gaze to meet James’. “Dat was the duty he was charged with.”

“Souls then.” He murmured, looking down. There were so many, some little more than shadows, while other still had faces. He surveyed them, trying to catch a glimpse of each and every one; it was only when the woman pressed her hand to the skin of his forearm that James realised he was leaning over the railings.

“There’s boats coming now.” Spoke one of the pirates behind them, and James forced his eyes away from the bodies in the water to see a fleet of longboats heading their way. Not one of these bodies had faded to shadow, the light before them keeping their features illuminated, though some were more visible than others. 

“They’re not a threat to us. Am I right?” James heard Turner state as someone primed a musket, but he couldn’t draw his eyes away from the souls.

“We are nothing but ghosts to dem.”

“It’s best just let them be.” Murmured Barbossa, for once not projecting his voice which had taken on a respectful tone. 

“I know those men.” James murmured, watching a trio of Navy men drift past them. “I suppose there is nothing we can do for them?”

“No. Their souls will roam dis world until…”

“Until Davy Jones resumes his duties.” James finished in a breath, sorrow echoing deep within him, as though their songs had merged with his being.

He continued to watch them as they drifted aimlessly through the water, doomed to roam trackless waters. The boats continued to come, and some of those within them began to display injuries, and eventually he saw men in the boats that were no emotionless phantoms, but souls in distress as they cried out, perhaps still caught up in their deaths. 

“Jamie.” Jack had appeared beside him, pressing a gentle hand to his back. “Come inside.”

“I’ll just… watch…” James muttered absently, still unable to turn away.

“Come on, luv.” Jack’s voice was soft, his tone coaxing. “Leave them be and get some sleep.”

“They may be here forever.”

“Mayhaps they will, but we don’t want to be. Come lie down, luv. Rest.”

James allowed Jack to pull him away, and though the sight of the spirits left him, their song continued to imbue their sorrow into him. Jack’s arms and warm body lulled him to sleep, but until the eerie congregation had moved on, he was distressingly aware of them.

\------

The next day followed a similar routine to the one before, Gillette noted. While he enjoyed sitting up in the crow’s nest, he noted the distress that some of the men were showing; by late evening, he decided to do something about it.

“Sir?” He called, hurrying over to the man. 

“Gillette.” The former commodore turned, and Gillette jumped. James looked terrible, with dark circles under his heavy eyes as he leaned back against the cabin door.

“Are you alright? I heard about the ghosts.” The man had once been his commanding officer, and his friend. Gillette would have been concerned, even if he hadn’t felt somewhat responsible for dragging the other man out here.

“Left to drift forever.” James allowed his green eyes to focus on Gillette, causing the man to startle at the intensity of the expression. “Because Davy Jones will never take them over to the other side.”

“What do you mean?” Gillette asked in confusion, as Sparrow spun around on his crate to look curiously at them.

“Davy Jones was to take them to the other side, and now he won’t so they shall roam the seas forever.”

“Over the other side.” Muttered Sparrow. “Over the edge and over again.”

“As I said yesterday, we’ve already been over the edge to get here. I don’t want to do it again.” Gillette stated, wrinkling his nose in an expression of disgust. He hadn’t enjoyed that trip. “Besides, we fell down a waterfall to reach here. We need to go up.”

“Up is down. And a sunrise that sets.”

“Jack?” James turned to his guide.

“If everything is reversed… if the sunrise goes down then it sets… and we need to go over the edge to make up become down.”

“What?” Both James and Gillette asked, struggling to follow the pirate’s thinking.

“Up is down when you’re upside down. What’s that?” He ran to the side of the ship, one arm wrapped around James’ wrist to bring him along. Gillette followed.

“What’s what?” asked one of the pirates, hurrying over to the captain.

“That!” Sparrow ran to the other side. 

Rocking the ship to make up become down… Gillette couldn’t help the grin that split his face as he ran from one side to the other of the tilting ship; Theodore would be most envious. He greatly admired Sparrow, and Gillette could almost understand why… even if he was now hanging onto the side of a capsizing ship.

As he grasped the railings, he held his breath in his lungs and waited for the sun to rise above the horizon. This would be a story to tell in the tavern eventually, even if it was in Tortuga that he had to tell Theodore; the other man greatly enjoyed the tale of skeletal pirates who appeared in moonlight, but this one would surely top it. Although, waiting in the water was far less frightening than fighting monsters.

Water rushed past him, and Gillette tightened his grip on the wood above him, clinging desperately even as he shut his eyes again his blurred vision. 

And then he was lying on the deck, dripping water and gasping like a stranded fish.

“Sunrise.” Miss Swann said as he staggered to his feet. 

Coughing and gasping still, Gillette wiped his dripping face before looking to James, who was gripping the railing with his eyes shut. 

“I can’t believe that worked.” He laughed, energy still surging through him. “Sir? Are you unwell?”

James whimpered softly, swaying slightly as though he was dizzy. Gillette wondered if his senses had been befuddled in the move from one world to another, but he didn’t contemplate the issue long; the two pirate captains were arguing and had drawn their guns. Turner and Swann were crouched on the deck, huddled together and so he supposed it was a sentinel thing.

Even so, James didn’t react to Sparrow having a gun pointed in his face, and although the gunpowder would be wet, Gillette would have expected more of a reaction. He moved to the other man and, using a gesture he remembered Theodore often performing, he laid a hand on the man’s back.

“James?” he whispered, and James opened his eyes.

“Jack?”

In an instant, the pirate had tucked his gun into his sash and hurried over to his mate. Two hands came up to line James’ face, and Gillette averted his eyes; the intensity between the two made him feel uncomfortable, as though it was part of a more intimate act. 

“Mr Gibbs.” Gillette said, making a decision to act as he normally would. He had no authority aboard this ship, but he could at least help get people working.

“Aye, laddie?”

“Perhaps we should get hammock canvas dried out. Everything will be wet and I believe it would be best to set people off with something to do.”

“It won’t stop ‘em thinking.” Gibbs warned, but he clapped Gillette on the shoulder and set off barking orders.

Gillette walked over to Barbossa, taking the charts off him without a word; the pirate captain curled a lip at him, but didn’t object as he watched Sparrow and James. 

“We need supplies, fresh water and the like.” He stated, looking over at the man who still tormented his dreams. “Captain Barbossa?”

“Aye. That we do.” The man apparently didn’t notice, or didn’t care for his feelings; instead he unrolled the charts wrapped an arm around Gillette’s shoulder as he leant them both over the map. Gillette failed to repress his shudder.

“Where are we?” He asked, his own eyes not on the map, but seeking out anyone who may be able to help.

“We’re not far from land. For all that your Navy don’t like ‘em, sentinels be very useful men to have aboard a ship.”

“Norrington and Turner have found land?”

“Mr Pintell can smell the grasses of nearby land.” Barbossa drawled, his eyes trailing back over to where James and Sparrow were now bickering. “It’ll take near two days to reach our destination.”

“Our destination?” 

“Shipwreck Cove. The song has been sung.” Barbossa pointed to a point on the unfamiliar chart as he spoke his cryptic words.

“The Captain hasn’t agreed to that course.” Gibbs had returned, and was glaring at the man.

“Where to then, Mr Gibbs?” Gillette didn’t exactly run as he hurried away from Barbossa. 

“Why don’t ya go and ask the captain?” He suggested with a kindly smile.

Gillette nodded and hastened to reach yet another pirate.

“Gillette?” James raised a concerned brow as he stopped beside them, and the young man was undeniably thankful to have an ally on this pirate ship.

“Barbossa says we are headed for Shipwreck Cove?”

“Not on my watch.” Scowled Sparrow.

“Why not? What’s there?” Gillette wondered aloud.

“The Brethren Court are meeting.” Sparrow winced, his eyes sliding over to James.

“There’s a court?” Gillette was surprised, he had never given any thought to the possibility of order to the pirate ways.

“Why are you wanting to avoid the court?” James asked, turning to Sparrow. “And why are they meeting?”

“I owe them money.” Sparrow shrugged. “And something to do with Beckett.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Jack.”

“They be discussing how to fight Beckett. We need to stand together, and ye are a pirate lord.” Barbossa had made his way back over to them. Gillette considered hiding in the rigging again, but then dismissed the idea; he wanted to know what was going on.

“I’m all for fighting Beckett. I left Theo there.” Gillette stated softly, and he turned a pleading gaze on Sparrow. When James turned to look at the pirate as well, Gillette could have grinned; Sparrow’s expression showed that he wouldn’t deny his sentinel.

“Fine. We stop for supplies than we head to Shipwreck Cove.” Jack frowned, heading to the helm as Tia Dalma laid a hand on James’ shoulder and lead him off to the side to speak with him.

\------

“Jack? Don’t go.” James requested as the men prepared to head over to a nearby island to restock what they could.

“I’m not leavin’ me ship in his hands.” Barbossa objected, but he stepped back when James snarled at him.

“You are not captain. You will go and fetch what we need.” James stated, his voice deepening with a dangerous tone. “But before anyone leaves the ship, there is a matter that needs addressing.”

“Which is?” 

“There is two ships nearby.” He shut his eyes for a moment and tried to focus more on the sounds. “It could be one with two separate crews, but it would have to be a large ship for so much canvas… no, two ships, I think.”

“Pirates?” Jack stood in front of him, grasping his shoulders in a firm grip as James extended his senses further.

“One is Navy… the other… It’s…” His eyes opened and he looked at Tai Huang. “You have a ship waiting for you.”

“With the Navy.” Jack growled as he took a threatening step towards him.

“Not us!” the man objected, stepping back. “We sail with you!”

“You lie.” James glared.

“We just follow orders.” He held his hands up.

“Sao Feng, he’s here.” Snarled Barbossa angrily. “Which way, lad?”

James pointed, the Navy ship was further away, but he could hear the whistles used to ensure orders were heard.

“It’ll be you he’s here for.” Barbossa rounded on Jack, but Jack stood his ground.

“He needs to let things go, mate. Go over there and talk to him for me.”

“Ye’ll be talking to him yourself.”

“I’ll go.” Interrupted James before they got going.

“No.” Jack turned to his lover. “Sao Feng is a powerful guide and a rather unpleasant pirate. I don’t want you near him.”

“Someone needs to talk to him and he isn’t coming near you, ergo I need to go over there.”

“It doesn’t need to be you, luv.”

“You, I suspect, will be a main topic for conversation. I need to be there.” James crossed his arms over his chest in a stubborn act. “Tai Huang can come with me… along with his men.” 

“Jamie…”

“There are enough of you to crew the boat without them.” James quietly reminded him. They wouldn’t really be enough for a long journey, but to reach their destination then eleven would do. “Don’t go off to play with any Navy ships while I’m not here.”

“Jamie.” Jack pulled him down for a soft kiss, before releasing him. 

“Remember, opportune moments and don’t do anything stupid.”

James grinned at him, before nodding to Gillette and leading the men to the longboats. There was only about half dozen of the men left and so they only took one boat. James sat by the stern, making no effort to help as the men began to row them towards a cove. 

As he boarded the Empress, Sao Feng met him. Tai Huang disappeared into the crew and James was led to the main cabin.

“I cannot help but wonder, James Norrington, why you are here.” Sao Feng’s face held no overt malice in it, but James could feel the press of the pirate’s mind against his own as they stood several feet apart and stared at each other. 

“I am here because you are here.” He replied, unsure of how to protect his mind against this… assault.

“So you are.” James shuddered, uneasy with the idea that another could see into his mind.

“You have met Calypso?” gasped the man, stepping forwards with wide eyes; for a moment, the fearsome pirate looked at him with childlike curiosity. 

“Yes. There is a task that needs to be done.” He replied, thinking of Barbossa’s plan to free her.

“And for that you need all nine pieces of eight.”

“Indeed.”

“But your Navy controls Davy Jones. There is no hope left for us.” Sao Feng spat angrily at him.

“Not my Navy.” He answered bitterly. “And there is hope. There is a way to defeat Davy Jones, I’ve held his heart in my hands once; it can be done again.”

As they spoke, James froze. Sao Feng frowned at him as he noticed the sentinel cock his head and listen.

“There is fighting.” He murmured. “Jones is here.” 

“Then Shipwreck Cove is where we need to be.” Sao Feng stated, determination solidifying in his face. “You need not fear a fight, and neither do I.” 

James couldn’t help but grin in response to the quirk of lips that belied Sao Feng’s amusement; the ability to read thoughts probably made fighting an easier task for him.

“Captain!” Yelled Huang as he ran into the cabin. “They are taking the ship.”

“Norrington and I have reached a decision.” Sao Feng stated as he moved towards his man. “We are to head for Shipwreck Cove. We will fight.”

James wasn’t listening to them though, he was trying to find Jack in the sounds of battle. He could hear Gillette’s shouting, giving orders as he went; Jack had mentioned that leaving the Navy didn’t change a man entirely, and he supposed this was true. Briefly, he wondered who was on the Navy ship, and if it held anyone he knew… but a cannon blast tore his attention away as heard the wind filling the canvas of the Pearl.

“Sao Feng.” He dropped to his knees beside the man as Huang yelled. The smell of burnt flesh was vile, but James didn’t shy away as the dying captain grasped his wrist.

“For him, you say? Perhaps you are right, my weaver of fate.” the pirate murmured, his eyes presumably on his spirit guide before the pushed up to peer at James. “Do you know what this is?” Sao Feng asked, holding up a gemstone wrapped in silk.

“Silk?” Unsure why the man was discussing his necklace as he died.

“It is silk from the Silk Road, and in it there is jade. My brother carried this. My father carried this. Now you carry this, my piece of eight. Free Calypso. Kill Davy Jones. Free the sea.”

His body stilled, and James stared wide eyed at the pirate.

“Captain?” Huang flinched as cannon fire continued to sound around them. “What are your orders?”

“He’s dead.” James explained softly, eyes fixed on the piece of eight that he had been given.

“You are the captain.”

“On deck.” He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He was no pirate, and yet he was now a pirate captain… with a pirate ship and a pirate crew. He withdrew the sword that Gillette had rescued from Port Royal for him. 

The fight was short though, as James stopped fighting when his new crew’s lives were threatened. 

“Who do ye name as captain?” called a voice James half remembered.

“Him!” pointed Huang, a call echoed by the others.

“Sentinel Norrington.” Captain Jones limped over to him. James managed not to stare at the writhing tentacles, but he stepped back from a pincer as it neared him.

“Captain Jones. I’ve heard a great deal about you.” 

It was perhaps the tone of respect that James injected into his voice that gave Jones a moment of pause; the former commodore had long since learnt how to appear sincere to those the despised. As he was taken to the other ship, James noted that the Black Pearl had disappeared from even his view. 

“You have recovered from the death of your guide?” asked Jones, once they were in his cabin aboard the Flying Dutchman.

“I have been travelling with Tia Dalma.” James stated, as though that were an answer and explanation, as opposed to an evasion. 

“Her.” Growled Jones, his tentacles twisting in anger. “You have me kill my kraken, then you travel with her and now you speak so blithely to me.”

“You killed Jack.” James replied.

“Aye. And I do not blame you. She is a tempting witch, especially for a sentinel with no guide.”

“I had a guide.” He snarled, unable to help himself.

“Ye are a guest aboard my ship, boy!” snapped Jones, but his body relaxed again a moment later. “But, I know the pain that comes with the death of your one true guide. As I said, she is tempting.”

“Did she love you?” he asked, not bothering to ask the reverse; the man had cut his heart out for her, after all.

“Aye.” Jones replied after a long pause. “I think she did.”

“Then what happened?” He accepted the seat offered to him, covered in sea life though it was; his clothing was, after all, grimy anyway.

“Ten years, I served her. Ten years, I did her bidding. I loved her once.”

“You love her still.” James observed quietly, green eyes seeking out blue as they discussed the topic.

“Aye… that I do.” The monstrous face was miserable. “For ten years I did a task I had no love for, eager for the chance to be with her. Our time together before that had been…”

“Like nothing else.” He finished for the captain, reflecting on his time with Jack.

“I have no interest in the dead. I have a love outside her, and that is sailing.” Jones slumped in his own seat, eyes flicking to the organ, behind which James supposed there was a window.

“Then, why did you accept?”

“My crew, Sentinel Norrington. I sailed a plague ship, and we couldn’t make port anyway. We were sailing until we died.”

“So her offer will have seemed like a dream.” James realised, understanding flooding him. 

“And for a while, it was. The pains of impending death left us and we could sail. The crew could step foot on land, but I still couldn’t make port.” Jones gazed blankly over to him, sorrow welling in the blue depths. 

“And she didn’t meet you, because she was the sea and so untameable.”

“She lied to me.” 

“She still loves you.” James informed him slowly, unsure how this fact would be received.

“Pah!” Jones stood up and marched over to his organ, his tentacles reaching out to caress the keys. “How can she, after what I did?”

“She is an unpredictable woman, and I wouldn’t rule her affection out just yet.”

“You make my heart ache with talk of this, and it isn’t here for me to soothe.” In that moment, Davy Jones sounded old and tired.

“Beckett has it. I hear he arrested me and took it from me.” James murmured, his mind racing through the different angles they could take to defeat Beckett.

“Aye. I’m sorry ye lost yer guide, boy.” Sighed Jones. “I find I like ye, but Jack Sparrow needed to learn that a deal must be honoured.”

“Deals can be changed.” James pointed out in a small voice; he was aware that Jones didn’t know Jack had been rescued.

“That they can.” 

And with that, Jones fell silent. James sat wondering whether or not to speak again. Surely if he could get the heart from Beckett, then Jones would be saved. If Jones was saved, then he may be merciful towards Jack… but then, what about Tia Dalma? The plan was to release her from her ‘human bonds’ and give her reign of the sea… and what about those people? Those drifting souls that had touched something deep within James?

“It seems we have a common enemy in Beckett.” Jones spoke up.

“Yes.” James took a deep breath. “Why do you… look like that?”

“What?” Jones spun around, fury etched into his features.

“I beg your pardon, but I can’t imagine you were always so… deformed.” It was as tactful as he could manage without making his meaning obscure. 

“When I stopped ferrying souls across, I found that moving between worlds left more of the sea on me.” Jones said, his eyes focussed intently on James’. “She would not meet me, so I would not do her work. I don’t do her work, and then she covers me in herself.”

“Those souls…”

“You’ve seen them?” Jones said sharply, his eyes narrowing.

“I… No.”

“You’ve seen them.” Snarled Jones.

“Yes. We were in the locker.” He’d never been terribly skilled at lying, and lying to sentinels was always a difficult thing to do.

“So Jack Sparrow roams this world again. That is why you are so well.” Jones’ voice was only vaguely interested, but James knew better than to believe the casual tone.

“Your beast ate him. He spent weeks trapped there with his soul fractured, and we brought him back.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you and then go for him, boy.” Hissed the captain dangerously.

“Because then you will miss out on your chance for freedom.” He stated, the idea only half formed in his mind.

“And what does that mean?”

“Take me to Shipwreck Cove. Tell me how to free Calypso.”

“Free her? I was the one who showed the pirate lords how to bind her!”

“And if you are the one who shows them how to free her… show her you have changed, that you still love her!”

“I would not ferry souls again. It was a weight on me that was unbearable. My original crew have all moved on, there is no need for me to do that.”

“Then don’t. There are others in this world who would help those lost at sea. Deals can be changed, remember?”

“She would be angry.” Jones claimed, but he had moved to stand in front of James, eyes staring at nothing as he thought.

“She loves you. You love her. She is your one true guide and you are her sentinel. Don’t rule out that bond.” James had no idea if this would work, but he wanted to be at Shipwreck Cove. “Maybe she’ll take pity on you, and take your heart back from Beckett.”

“I suppose… nothing can be worse than that man having it, even death…” Jones looked down at James. “That man is an abomination. No one should belong to him.”

“So, you’ll help?” James tried not to think of Groves, and whether he was with Beckett or not.

“Aye. Fetch yer crew, Sentinel Captain Norrington. We have a goddess to free.”

“That we do.”

\------

“I convene this, the Fourth Brethren Court.” Barbossa spoke as self-appointed chairman to the pirates that had gathered. “To confirm your lordship and right to be heard, present now your pieces of eight, my fellow cap’ns.” 

Ragetti shuffled around, gathering the different pieces of eight as everyone watched. Jack gripped his sleeves uncomfortably as he wondered where James was; Sao Feng had yet to arrive and although Jack knew James wasn’t dead, he had no idea what had happened in their meeting. He silently cursed Beckett and his need for dramatics; his attempt to take the Black Pearl, and the appearance of the Flying Dutchman had meant that they had not hung around to collect Jack’s sentinel once they had freed themselves.

However, the song had been sung and the court had been called; Sao Feng was sure to arrive, Jamie in tow.

“Sparrow!” shouted Vallenueva when he didn’t produce his piece of eight.

“Might I point out that we are still short one pirate lord, and I’m as content as a cucumber to wait until Sao Feng joins us.”

“You may be waiting a while, Jack.” The voice that called through the air was filled with dry humour. “He was killed by the Flying Dutchman.”

James Norrington stood before them, dressed in his scruffy shirt, breeches and boots with his old coat pulled over the top. His appearance would not have mattered to Jack, but it was from the sheath attached to his belt that he pulled his Turner sword and planted it into the globe.

“Ye be his successor?” Barbossa startled beside him as he looked at James; the pirates around them burst into discussion.

“You’re a _pirate_ lord?” asked Jack, his lips smirking in an expression he couldn’t hide. 

“Now… We’re here to discuss Beckett, are we not?” James asked, his commanding voice cutting through the rabble with an air of authority. 

“That we are.” Barbossa confirmed and James made his way around to stand beside Jack. “Davy Jones be under the command of Beckett-”

“That’s not entirely true.” James interrupted, and nearly everyone looked curiously at him. “Cutler Beckett does indeed possess his physical heart, but Jones is like any man in that he will never give Beckett his affection; that is still reserved for the sea.”

“Jamie? What are you sayin’?” asked Jack, reaching over to hold his lover’s hand.

“Jones wants to be free of Beckett. He showed me the way here so I could show you how to free Calypso.”

And again the arguing broke out; some agreed that freeing Calypso as a way to break Beckett’s hold on Jones was the best idea, other didn’t think it would work. James took the lull in actual discussion as a chance to kiss Jack.

“I saw yer lieutenant, by the way.”

“Gillette? Where is he?”

“Still aboard the Pearl, he didn’t want to walk into a pirate stronghold. But no, I meant the other one.” Jack grinned at him gently.

“Groves? Is he well?”

“As well as you can be while working on Beckett’s ship, I guess.” Jack shrugged. Groves had looked exhausted, beyond what any of the other men had, but Jack could understand; the lack of a soul was extremely unsettling in his mind, so for a guide to spend so much time in the man’s company without giving his status away…

“Speaking of Beckett’s ship. The Navy will be on their way.” His voice projected the last to each pirate in the room. “While they do not have an exact location, and I do not believe Jones will give you up when he is so opposed to Beckett, they have sentinels.”

“You sure?”

“Mercer is a sentinel like myself, he has a command of all five senses.” It was rare that a sentinel had control over so many, usually they had the ability to change one or two; it made Mercer a dangerous adversary and, with him hunting them, it was likely they would be found. 

“Then we must fight!” Elizabeth spoke up, but no one paid her any mind; she wasn’t a pirate lord.

James spoke up. “I struck an accord with Jones. Part of it involved helping free Calypso from her bonds.” Barbossa nodded his head, clearly pleased that his plan would be taking into consideration. “However, they will be bringing a fleet. I do not think you can run, and I do not think you can hide.”

“You say we must fight? Shipwreck Cove is a fortress! There is no need to fight if they cannot get to us.” Mistress Ching dismissed the idea. 

“I say we release Calypso and have her destroy our enemies for us.” Shouted Barbossa. “We need not fight, Captain Norrington.”

“Not fight, perhaps, but you know that we must be at sea before we can release the sea goddess.” Jones had clearly explained what needed to happen. “If you have one ship sail out, it will be blasted out the water before you can begin to burn anything.”

“To sail out as a fleet? This be an act of war!” barked the pirate. “Only a king can declare war.”

“Never mind war! What makes you think Calypso will be anything but our enemy now?” Jocard asked with a curl of his lip, looking at James as though he was an idiot.

“Because it will be Jones who frees her, and it will be Jones who makes the request. Failing that, I will ask it of her.” Jack watched in amazement as the confidence in James’ voice had several of the pirate lords nodding their heads.

“Ye cannot declare war, boy.” Barbossa scowled at him as violent discussion broke out once more.

“Will it work?” asked Jack, dark eyes searching the green eyes that so resembled the sea he loved. “She is, after all, a woman scorned.”

“Don’t you believe in love?” James’ voice was oddly serious as he raised a hand to cup Jack’s cheek.

“For us, Jamie? Aye, I do. For them?”

“They are guide and sentinel, and unlike some, their bond appears to be very similar to ours.”

“All consuming.”

“Quite.”

“I call for a vote!” Jack spoke over the others, having made up his mind. He’d vote for Jamie and they would do this his way.

“I vote for Ammand, the corsair.” 

“Captaine Chevalle, the penniless Frenchman.”

“Sri Sumbhajee votes for Sri Sumbhajee.”

“Mistress Ching votes for… Captain Norrington.” She sat back down as yells erupted around them.

“Captain Norrington.” Jack gaped as Jocard voted for his sentinel as well. “In the belief that he has the way out.”

“James Norrington.” James stated, apparently not realising how bizarre it was to have someone else vote for him.

“Barbossa.”

“Vallenueva!”

“James Norrington.” Jack voted, grinning slightly as his former commodore won the vote to become Pirate King. He watched as many of the other pirates began to argue before he spoke up. “Are we not keeping to the code?”

“Hang the code! We do not need to figh-” The man speaking for Sri Sumbhajee began, before he dropped to the ground. Jack managed not to flinch, but he felt his skin crawl; he hated feeling people die.

“The code is the law.” Came a whisper from nearby, and Jack decided to distract James before he got curious about Teague.

“What is it we’re doing then, Pirate King James?”

“Prepare your vessels for war. If we act now, then we will hopefully be able to avoid a fight, but I won’t have anyone setting out when their ships are lacking. You have until morning.” 

The voices started up again, but as crews began to move out then it was clear that James’ authority was accepted. 

“So, boy, you thought you’d come and go without a word?” A quiet voice spoke up behind the pair, and Jack flinched. He’d really hoped to avoid this for now.

“Have we met?” Asked James, shutting his eyes and breathing deeply. “You smell familiar, like Jack, and the sea… and a crushing weight… and a smile?”

“That makes no sense, luv.” Jack stated as he tried to push James along.

“We’ve met, Captain Norrington. Though you were younger.” Teague leaned against the doorframe as James opened his eyes again.

“We have?”

“On your father’s ship.” Jack stopped pushing, a memory flickering in the back of his mind, just out of reach.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve never been sailing with my father.” 

“It was nigh on twenty five years ago. Your father captured my ship.”

“I would have been about six.” James gave Teague a doubtful look. “Are you sure?”

“Aye, you fell overboard lad, and I jumped in to pull you out.”

“You’re the pirate I owe my life to?” 

“And you knocked the admiral out.” Jack said, bits of memory finally returning to him. It had been the first time he had met Gibbs, who had freed them from the brig of the Navy ship.

“His father, aye.”

“Thank you, sir. I owe you a debt.” James half bowed to Teague.

“You are our King, boy. And more than that; you’re family. You owe me no debt.”

James was silent for a moment, his eyes peering into Teague’s before a small smile twitched at his lips. “Thank you.”

“Aye. And now it’s time to go to yer cabin.” Teague stated as he settled down in a corner and started to strum at his instrument.

“Pardon?” James blinked in surprise, likely unused to a pirate dismissing him like a schoolboy.

“Come on, Jamie.” Jack smirked slightly, but took the man’s hand and led him away. 

“We’ll need to eat first, Jack.” James stated as he followed the pirate without objection. “Captain Jones didn’t feed me.”

“Aye. We’ll do that. Let’s go see if your Navy boy has looked after me ship.”

It turned out that Gillette had put to work the pirates that had remained aboard the Pearl. Linens that had been washed were drying in the dying sun, the main sail was getting some repairs and Gillette was now overseeing repair to the yards. He reported that the hold had been pumped and that the holes down there were getting plugged as well, but Jack sent Gibbs to oversee the rest of the work and sent the lad for food as well.

“There’s a few questions I wanted answering.”

“Yes, Captain?” Gillette’s face went blank, but his anxiety shot through Jack. The pirate hid a grin as he remembered the boy was still adapting to being a pirate rather than an officer.

“A bit of good news though.” He started as he sat beside Jamie with grog in hand. Gillette sat beside him, face still carefully blank. “Yer lieutenant friend is well, lad.”

“Groves? You’ve seen him?”

“The guide, aye. He’s with Beckett, and doesn’t seem too happy about it, but he’s well enough.”

“Thank goodness!” Gillette sighed, relief crashing through him and causing him to slump forwards. There was a definite burn of affection in the boy at the mention of the other lad.

“An’ hopefully our King has found a way to avoid an all-out.” Jack added.

“You have a King? A pirate court and a pirate King…” Gillette looked bemused for a moment.

“I’ll mention to Tia Dalma about him as well, hopefully she’ll take care of him if he falls overboard tomorrow.” James said at the same time. 

“James is our Pirate King. Just voted.” Jack hid his grin with a sip of grog as Gillette’s jaw dropped.

“You’re a pirate? Since when?”

“You’re a pirate, Your Majesty.” Corrected Jack, struggling to keep the laughter out of his voice. Thankfully Gillette was still staring at James, who looked almost exasperated.

“Sao Feng was fatally injured when I was aboard his ship. He made me captain.”

“Why?” Gillette asked, and Jack’s amusement settled as he listened to James.

“He could read minds, you know?”

“Sao Feng?” the boy gasped as Jack winced slightly; he hadn’t forgotten that fact.

“Yes. Although, maybe _read_ minds isn’t quite what I mean.” James stared at his meal of eggs and salted pork, as though trying to puzzle it out.

“What d’ya mean, luv?” Jack looked to him for a moment, faint stirrings of arousal already shifting within him as he watched those long fingers.

“Huang said it wasn’t... he didn’t always read, because everyone’s mind is different. He… encountered your thoughts. Apparently some people think in words, like speech, but others see images.”

“Oh, so how you think is what he sees?” Gillette leant forwards, his eyes wide with child-like curiosity.

“Saw. And what he heard… or smelt, apparently. Some people think in spoken word, some in the written word. Huang said if you recall a smell, he could share that experience.”

“That’s bizarre. I’ve never heard of guide abilities like that.” Jack agreed with the lad. He hadn’t known Sao Feng’s abilities were so extensive.

“You’ve only met a few guides, and I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to them in any great detail about what they can do. Well, other than Theodore.”

“I know Theo… and Murtogg. I know Miss Swann is a guide, and Sparrow.” Gillette nodded at Jack. “Umm… The one with the false eye is a guide, though I cannot remember if he is Ragetti or Pintell. Oh, and Miss Dalma.”

“Miss Dalma is a sea goddess bound in human form.” James told him.

“Truly?” Gillette grinned. “Wait till Theo hears about this! He loves this kind of bizarre event.”

James said nothing, simply gave the man an indulgent smile which was soon interrupted by several new crewmen that Jack had acquired coming to speak with the Pirate King. However, he eventually stopped the flow of questions, most of which he either hadn’t understood or had been unable to answer, then he took Jack’s hand and pulled him away to whistles and cheers.

“James?” Jack asked, aware that it wasn’t the heat of arousal that caused his sentinel to pull them away to his cabin.

“I feel like a confidence man, pretending to know more than I do.” He whispered. “And I don’t know if it is easier to bluff when I know I’m not alone anymore.”

Jack didn’t say anything, instead heading over to a chest and pulling out some rum. James took the bottle without a word, taking a deep swig. His fingers curled around the silk pendant he wore, as his green eyes slid shut.

“I miss having routine.”

“Ye’ll have it again, luv.” Jack assured him, settling on the bed beside him and running fingers through long, brown hair. “An’… if things be easier for you without me alongside.”

“No, Jack.” James sighed, his whole countenance exhausted. “I did not mean that. I meant, well… As captain, and then in my brief time as commodore, I pretended to be someone, perhaps more like my brothers and my father than myself. I kept my personality for my bedchamber, if you like.”

Jack said nothing, waiting for James to continue. He simply had a drink and handed the bottle over again.

“And in some ways that was easier. I was like that even with Theodore, who was as close to a friend as I could manage, and with Gillette… who is so close a friend I still use his surname.” James gave a bitter laugh, covering his face with his hands. 

Jack reached up to hold one, pressing a kiss to it.

“I couldn’t always help my sense of humour, but I did not…”

“I know what you mean, luv.” Jack whispered; and he did. The man people viewed as Captain Jack Sparrow was a different person to Jack Sparrow in private. He wasn’t some staggering, rum-drowned pirate who got by on a mixture of luck and infamy; he had motivations beyond rum and gold, but he also didn’t want to let anyone in and have them change how others viewed him. It had been difficult to adapt to loving James, and having his love in return.

“It almost hurts to have you.” James murmured, but he pressed a gentle kiss to Jack’s lips, pouring his emotions into it.

Jack didn’t reply verbally. Instead, his hands came up to frame James’ face as he gently explored his lover’s mouth. His response was taken well, and James answered with a sigh as he wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders and sank back into the bedding. The captain changed his attack from a careful search to vigorous plundering as he pressed down, pulling one long leg up to rest on his hip.

His hair was tugged at as James sought to remove his headband, but Jack was more focussed on revealing pale, muscled flesh and made no move to assist him; and when pale, muscled flesh came on display, Jack sat up to observe it properly.

“You are sightly.” Jack murmured, as he tossed away the cloth that now fell into his eyes; he didn’t want anything to impede his view. James blushed, as he had expected, but he managed to smirk up at him. The expression made Jack shudder; it suited him.

“What if I lose a limb tomorrow? Will you still think so then?” James asked, but his mood wasn’t centred on possible injury. Jack didn’t mind the question; James’ voice had taken on a delicious, husky tone that matched the smoulder in his eyes.

“Always, Jamie.” He assured, leaning down to nip at the stretch of skin at his neck.

“What if I turn pirate, Jack?” James gasped and lifted his other leg to press closer. Jack shuddered at the feel of his bare flesh.

“You are pirate king and I’m still here, luv.” The captain cut off the next question with a kiss, taking the other’s lips in a slow, sensual caress as James groped lower.

“Mine.” Hissed James as their lips parted, and Jack bit the base of his neck in agreement. 

Thoughts of impending battles and sea goddesses sailed over the horizon of Jack’s attention as he slid down James’ body, taking his arousal in hand and lavishing attention between his legs. The noises that escaped James’ red lips were as stimulating as desire he could feel emanating from him and Jack felt his own cock demand attention.

Promising that it would have its pleasure soon enough, Jack grabbed a jar off his shelf, taking just a moment to lament how close to empty it was, before he turned his attention back to the sentinel who was writhing beneath him.

By the time he was easing his way in, Jack no longer had the ability to tell the difference between his own feelings and James’, entwined so completely in one another as they were. He was unable to care though, as he lost himself in a cycle of driving need and surging blood; his desire causing him to fuck James with might and main, and his emphatic nature meant he experienced James’ reciprocal need in return. 

Linked together so intricately, they spiralled through the seas of desire, bursting forth with their release with as much blind, desperate enthusiasm as they had in previous couplings. However, this time Jack’s vision blurred and his mind stopped. He collapsed beside James, utterly exhausted.

Sex with this man was always spectacular, but that had been something else. He shut his eyes and waited for his body and mind to line up together again. 

“You never did ask your questions, Jack.” James slurred at him as they relaxed and Jack would have frowned in confusion if he had had the energy.

“Was just about how you two got here, luv. They can wait.” He mumbled after a few moments, when he remembered wanting to talk to Gillette about what had happened to James in the time they had been separated… when he had been in the locker.

Jack turned slightly and pulled James back against his chest. His remaining words got lost in a snore of Morpheus pulled him under.

\------

“I need your piece of eight, Jack.” James turned to his lover as they stood side by side in the dawning sun.

“Aye.” The pirate pulled a knife from his boot and cut through a braid with a coin on the end. 

“Thank you.” James took it, dropped it onto the plate which held the other pieces before grasping at the pendant around his neck. For something that he had had for less than two days, James found it surprisingly difficult to try and pull it off.

“James?” A warm hand covered his, and James let his eyes focus on Jack. “Have you spoken to her about Groves yet?”

“I’ll do that first.” He murmured, relief welling up inside as he halted the preparations. “Hopefully she is in a good mood.”

“Aye.”

They were mostly alone on the deck on the Black Pearl, and James leaned over to kiss his lover. They had several hours before they had to set out, unless Mercer managed to track them down more quickly than expected. Pulling away, James pressed a thumb to the mark he had left on Jack with a slight smile.

“Go.” Jack wasn’t grinning, but the fond smile on his face warmed his sentinel’s heart.

“I am.” One last kiss then James turned away, heading into the rum cellar, where Tia Dalma had settled.

She wasn’t in the hammock that had been set up for her, nor at the old table which had barrels around it instead of chairs; she stood in the corner, staring mournfully at the wall.

“Tia Dalma?” James warned her softly of his approach.

“James Norrington.” She turned and smiled at him, but it lacked her usual quirk. “You brought ‘im back t’ me.”

“He loves you.” James replied, knowing she spoke of Jones. “Enough to agree to something that made him unhappy.”

“Not enough to continue.”

“I believe that proves his humanity.” James stepped closer, looking down into her sad eyes. “As does his own misery.”

She scoffed gently. 

“You say you are the untameable and every changing sea, but you must have seen enough of men to realise some truths. Humans sacrifice a great deal for love and sometimes we sacrifice more than we actually have.” 

“Dat be true.” She sighed as she looked up at one of the few humans she trusted; for all that she hadn’t known him long, she could see into his heart and with him she wasn’t blinded by love.

“And, as I told Captain Jones, we are changed not only by experience, but also by time. Experience changed him, ferrying souls lost at sea when it was only your love keeping him from that fate, and now time; his crew have died, they have moved on. He no longer needs to keep them safe.”

“And what would you do?” She asked, her voice taking on a defensive edge.

“We shall soon sail out to open sea and you will be freed. I would either change the deal you have and be with the man you love, or I would let him move on.” James gave her a soft, sad smile. “He is tormented like this.”

“He corrupted his heart, and so ‘imself.”

“Yes. But he battled towards an undesired goal for a love he felt was unrequited.”

“I shall t’ink on it.” She murmured, gazing at the locket in her hand. “And what do ye ask of me in return for dis advice?”

“I…” the advice had been given freely, but he did have a request so he sucked up his pride and spoke. “We go to battle Beckett.”

“An’ you want him destroyed?” She asked, and her grin was once more filled with its usual life.

“Yes. No.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean… Beckett, yes. His men? No. Theodore Groves and the others who work for him… Most are good men, and many of them worked for me.”

“You want dem to live.” Her face was sympathetic and he nodded.

“I do not care for Beckett and Mercer, but the others matter to me.”

“Groves.”

“And many of the others who will be here. Beckett brought some of his own men, but most of them…I would not see them hurt. I’ve done enough to them.” He couldn’t forget the men who had died for his obsession with Jack; better that he was never in control of men who would follow without objection. At least pirates could take votes and would commit mutiny if he ever went down such a path again.

Tia Dalma smiled at him with a nod, and he bowed his head low to her before leaving. On deck, there were more men up and about, milling about as they prepared the ship to sail. In the distance, he could see the Flying Dutchman as she waited for them… Behind that were the approaching British Naval ships.

Never in his life had their appearance made him nauseous, but now he barely suppressed a whimper at the sight of them, and the knowledge of what they meant. It would be difficult to avoid battle now.

“They are waiting, I think.” He said softly to Jack and Barbossa as he approached the helm.

“Aye.” Barbossa squinted as he looked out to the other pirates, most of whom were ready to sail.

“No, I mean Beckett. With this wind, we’ll be pushed to free Tia Dalma before they arrive. We need to go.”

“All hands, make sail!” Jack shouted as he handed the helm over to Cotton. “You joining the Empress, or staying here?”

“I’ll stay here until she is free, then I’ll sail with the Empress.” James smiled as his eyes lifted to the blue sky. “I like the idea of sailing on my own ship again, even if she is a very different vessel to anything I have sailed before.”

“Never had bamboo strips in yer sails?”

“No. It’ll be interesting to observe the differences.”

By the time they had reached the Flying Dutchman, the other pirate ships had set out as well. James turned a grim expression to the Navy vessels that were easily visible to all the pirates now. Thankfully, Captain Jones joined them as soon as they drew up beside his own vessel.

“Are ye ready, Captain Norrington?” Despite the nerves that Jones clearly displayed, he managed to look amused for a moment. “Or is it King James? Yer Sentinel Majesty?” 

“Thank you, Captain Jones, but Norrington is fine.” James managed a smile himself, though his eyes drifted back to the approaching armada. 

“Where is she?” Jones asked, his tentacles twisting together as his eyes searched the deck. 

“Here, my love.” Tia Dalma walked towards them, she looked confident. 

Barbossa had a bitter look on his face as he handed the plate that held the pieces of eight over to Jones.

“Wait.” James tugged the silk wrapped jade from his neck. “Here.”

“Something to help them burn.” Drawled Barbossa, turning his gaze to Jack. With a scowl, Jack added a dram of rum to the plate. “I suppose ye know the words.”

“Yes.” Jones growled as he watched Gibbs hand the botefeux over to Barbossa.

“Wait.” James said, realising who now held the plate. “Mr Gibbs, please hold that?”

“Aye, Sir.” Gibbs took the plate off Pintell, who hissed unhappily at James.

“That smell is for neither you nor I. We sentinels must stand back.” Well, sentinels with the exception of Jones, but he was bonded to the woman so it wouldn’t have any adverse effects on him… probably.

“Calypso. I release you from your human bonds.” Whispered Jones, his voice so soft that likely only James and Tia Dalma heard him. As his tentacles caressed her, she sneezed; Gibbs dropped his hands away, but the plate continued to float before her, smoke rising from the burning items within. 

First, James heard a creaking noise, like bones ached with age; next he heard a swirl of magic. Stepping back, James stared wide-eyed at the colours that danced before his eyes. Green… The green of the ocean, with a ship underneath the waves and fish swimming within it. 

He lost himself in the colour for a moment, not hearing the yells of the crew, or the terrified gasp of Davy Jones as Calypso stared down at him; he didn’t see the naval ships as they came into firing range… there was a faint scent from the burnt offering and the colour green…

Jack’s touch brought him back to the present, and as the goddess burst into a wave of crabs, James spotted the threat.

“What do we do then, Yer Majesty?” Barbossa asked, his gaze focussing for a moment on Jack and James’ joint hands.

“Hoist the colours.”

“There’s an armada.” Gibbs said softly, taking a drink from his flask.

“And what will we do? Turn and cower?” James curled a lip as he looked at him. “Beckett has lost his advantage. He no longer has Davy Jones on his side, and Calypso is free. In my time as a pirate hunter, the only ship guaranteed to lose was the one that turned and fled, too pathetic to even try and fight. I won’t have that. We shall trust her to keep her word, and we will keep ours. Hoist the colours!”

“Hoist the colours!” Jack yelled, and their flag was raised. The echoing cry could be heard around them, rallying the ships as the sky darkened and they sailed forwards.

“I thought ye didn’t want to attack the Navy ships.” Jack murmured as he gripped the railings, looking out across the water.

“If they go overboard, they will be fine. She agreed to help us destroy Beckett though, and for that we need to do something.” He looked over at Jack. “If we can aboard and get Beckett and Mercer, then there may be no need to harm anyone else.”

“Aye. It’s a good plan, luv.”

“As a pirate, you ought to be adept to boarding ships in a storm.”

Jack laughed as rain began to fall. James heard him calling to Gibbs to prepare the men to board, with warnings to kill as few as possible. They had better listen; James could hear Groves on the Endeavour as he spoke to another lieutenant that James didn’t recognise, he could hear Murtogg and Mullroy bickering about whether or not to leave the ship and the Navy behind when it meant serving Beckett, that was Southwark complaining about the weather, and Mirren and Bonneville were complaining that they were approaching the Black Pearl, which had Sparrow aboard… and Sparrow was Norrington’s guide.

He was momentarily stunned at the loyalty of some of the men.

“Ready?” Gillette was visibly nervous as he gripped his cutlass, eyes focussed intently on the ship they would board.

“Don’t die, Gillette.” James said, turning to the younger man.

“My name is Andrew.” Gillette replied, a genuine smile on his face for a moment before nerves took hold again.

“Then you ought to call me James.” He grinned briefly at the man. They’d had a friendship before, but it had been held together by Groves, then shattered when James had lost his senses with Jack’s absence. Apparently, they now had something closer to the proper thing. 

“Ready, luv?”

“Yes. Disable their rigging.” James instructed.

“Fire!” yelled Jack, his voice carrying the command across the deck.

“Fire!” called Gibbs. “Take down their mast!”

As the cannons sounded, James stood beside Gillette and heard the Endeavour’s mizzen mast creak. Slowly, it fell sideways and the organisation of Beckett’s ship evaporated. The cannons on the naval vessel were mostly quiet as the sailors focussed on aiding those injured first; very few of them were even interested in fighting the Pearl.

“Grappling hooks!” shouted James, his powerful voice confident as his orders were obeyed. “Move quickly, try not to kill anyone… I’m going for Beckett.”

“An’ I’m going with ya.” James turned at the sound of Jones’ voice, but he took a moment to recognise the grey haired man beside him.

“Jones?”

“Let’s go.”

With a cry, the men boarded the Endeavour from near the bow, moving towards the stern like a swarm. With James leading the attack, Jones on one side and Gillette on the other, most of the Navy men made no attempt to fight back, dropping their weapons as the pirates approached them. 

“Oh, bloody hell.” James heard Beckett sigh as he ran forwards.

There was a ring of swords behind him as some men chose to fight, but James was distracted by Mercer as he drew a pistol. Tossing a lump of wood to distract him, James charged towards him, sword in hand. Mercer was fast as he raised his own sword, his eyes cold as they engaged in battle.

Although he could hear sounds of Jones and Beckett fighting, his attention was on Mercer and his vicious actions. There was no flair in Mercer’s movements as their swords clashed, no excessive turns or artful motions that men sometimes added, nothing to take advantage of. Instead, James battled a man whose abilities matched his own, whose reputation was that of an excellent swordsman… 

He could feel the eyes of men on them as they fought through the rain and they gave him extra strength; they needed him to win. It gave him an extra spur, and he pressed forwards, ignoring the sting of his own injuries as he kept breathing. If he’d been able, he would have smirked when he realised Mercer’s stamina was coming to a finish. A flash of lightning behind him stunned Mercer momentarily as his sentinel-strengthened vision must have struggled to adapt, and James sliced at his arm. Mercer dropped his sword but refused to admit defeat, bodily throwing himself at James. They went overboard.

In the water, a current pulled Mercer from him. As James forced his tired body to the surface, he saw Mercer struggle. It was a long moment before the king swam to the line that had been thrown down. There had been rumours in some circles that Mercer had no guide, because his guide was supposed to have been Beckett; that upon Beckett’s birth, Mercer’s soul had refused to split and his other half had had to go without. 

James wondered if it was true.

As he was hauled back aboard the Endeavour, James was shocked to see how many sailors cheered, not only pirates but Navy men too. In a canny near the stairs, James could see Groves and Gillette embracing. He grinned, but averted his eyes.

“Captain Jones?” He called out, and his voice was clear as no one on deck spoke above a murmur. 

“Aye, Pirate King James. We have the ship.”

“I thought I told you to call me Norrington.” He said, and he quelled laughter at the jaws that dropped and wondered if that was why Jones had used that title. 

“Pirate King?” Groves called out as he came over. “I leave you alone for a few weeks and you not only turn pirate, but you become a pirate monarch?” 

“It’s… been a busy few weeks?” James suggested, but a full-blown grin spread across his face.

“It be time ta go, James Norrington.” Tia Dalma walked across the deck, men gasping as she swished past them. She had stepped out unseen.

“Yes. I suppose it is.”

And they were aboard the Flying Dutchman, in the main cabin. It was vastly different to the last time James had seen it, the rot having faded, the organ had gone too which allowed light to pour in from the windows. Jack looked startled to have joined them as Jones and Calypso embraced.

“Were you injured?” James asked, eyes scanning his lover’s body quickly.

“You were!” Jack growled, taking in the sight of the slices in James’ wet clothing. “And ye went for a swim.”

“I was a bit too warm, you see.” James replied in a dry voice before he kissed Jack.

“Now, we have a deal, James Norrington.” She sat down regally in a chair at the table. The others joined her.

“Yes we do.”

“James?” Jack reached over to press their hands together. James pulled at the hand so it rested in his lap, held by both of James’. 

“The Dutchman needs a captain.” 

No one spoke for nearly a minute, not until Jack slowly raised his head. “It has to be you?”

“Him heard dem.” Calypso said, her dark eyes caring. “Him wanted to help.”

“The souls we passed in the doldrums of the Locker.” Jack said, but it wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Only making port once a decade?”

“What’s on land for me anyway?” James tightened his grip. “If my crew can get supplies, then the only time I would _need_ to be on shore was when the ship was careened. However, if there was a captain who would let me board his ship for the duration…”

“You’re always welcome aboard the Pearl, luv. You know that.”

“And you are a pirate. You spend most of your time at sea. So… what is there on land for me?”

“And living forever?”

“I’ll worry about that later, but you had better not die anytime soon, Jack Sparrow.”

“Captain Jack Sparrow!”

“No. You’re just my Jack.” James pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before turning his attention to Jones and Tia Dalma.

“Ye’ll still be a Pirate Lord, and Pirate King.” Jones informed him, tearing his eyes away from his own guide. “The Empress is still yers, but so is the Dutchman. Ye need to be here to fulfil yer duty.”

“I’m sure Huang would enjoy a chance to captain the ship.”

“What about the crew?” Jack asked. “The Dutchman’s crew.”

“Those who want to leave may go. Hopefully, I’ll have enough to sail.”

“So be it.” Tia Dalma interrupted before Jack could answer. Jack disappeared, presumably sent back to the Pearl. 

“I’d best tell me crew.” Chortled Jones as he limped out the cabin, his gait awkward as adjusted to moving normally in an unburdened body.

“Those who leave will move on, I suppose.” They moved more slowly, allowing Jones the chance to speak to his crew alone.

“They were dead.” She answered with a gentle nod. “Well, most of dem. Turner’s curse was not broken when him was rescued, so his body could carry on.”

“What if I don’t have enough crew?”

“I t’ink you will.” Calypso replied simply but before they emerged on deck, she put a hand on his shoulder. “Dere is one thing still to do.”

“”I… suppose there is.” Fear lanced through him at the idea, but he allowed her to lead him to the bed.

“Hold still.” She whispered, and James desperately shut off his ability to feel. 

He still heard noises though, the tearing of his flesh, the snipping of veins…. He felt dizzy… nauseous… he focussed on breathing, on anything but the smell of blood and the tang in the air. He lay there, trying not to tremble too violently as the goddess murmured softly in a language he did not know.

He kept his gaze on the faded material above his head until cool hands held his cheeks. 

“Do ya want the chest to keep it in?”

“You keep it.” He replied, not willing to look at her yet in case he saw his own beating heart… bad enough that he could hear it so clearly. “I’m sure it is very romantic to hand the one you love your heart, but practically I’d rather you keep it. That way, if I become… so disillusioned with what I am doing, then you can make sure I don’t terrorise anyone.”

“I do not t’ink you will.”

“And maybe, once upon a time, you thought that of Captain Jones. I do not know the future, so I want you to keep it.”

She nodded, and the sound of his heartbeat disappeared. James turned his head and sat up slowly. He retched, crumbling down into the blankets as he allowed himself to feel again, and realised that he could no longer feel his heart in his chest. Although he had expected it, it was still a shock.

“Take my arm.” Tia Dalma instructed.

James nodded, allowing her to pull him to his feet with a strength that her body didn’t look like it possessed. His knees nearly buckled as he stood, but with assistance they slowly made it out on deck.

Jones was speaking to his men, explaining the changes. Many of them looked stunned, but perhaps that was from the array of items and animals dropping off them. James looked at Tia Dalma.

“Maybe we should give them time?”

“Take all da time you need.” She said with a smile, and James was standing in Jack’s cabin.

“Jamie!” Jack jumped up from his bed and flung his arms around James. He’d hadn’t been quick enough to hide the redness of his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Never mind me! What happened? You felt terrified.” Jack pulled back, and James felt his strength give out again.

“She cut out my heart.” He replied with a whimper. 

“What?” breathed Jack, with no volume as he half carried James to his bed.

“She, Sh-She just… She cut it out.” James stuttered, still trembling. He trusted Tia Dalma’s magic enough that he knew the weakness wasn’t from the… surgery, but rather from his own shock.

Jack lay beside him, the warmth of his body a balm as James burrowed as close as he could get.

“C-Can’t hear it.” He said, wishing his voice was more steady.

“You still have a pulse, my love. Trust me.” Jack kissed him gently, and James let loving caress calm his nerves. Everything about his pirate lover felt both familiar and right, and James preferred to focus on him over himself any day.

“Do you know what happened to the Endeavour?”

“Not yet. She put me straight into here, then before I’d got me bearings again, you were a-trembling over this.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Jack.” James said honestly. 

“I love you.” Jack murmured, kissing his sentinel again. “Now, let’s go check on me crew.”

\------

Jack watched as James spoke to Groves and Gillette. They looked horrified at the wound on James’ chest, visible due to the tattered state of his clothing.

Nearby, he could see Gibbs shouting as Cotton sailed them back to Shipwreck Cove. The two lads were joining James on the Flying Dutchman; James was adamant that it wasn’t going to happen, but Jack knew that neither would give in. He couldn’t deny the relief; he’d fill that ship with Navy men if it meant they were less likely to turn on James. The fact that his lover was now able to heal from any injury didn’t mean that Jack would happily ignore them happening in the first place.

He knew that the two bickering men, Mullroy and Murtogg were on the Pearl now and planning to move over to the Dutchman with James, as were several other Navy men… or, ex-Navy men, as it happened. He knew that James would be surprised when he realised it. 

For all the man had been confident while in service of his country, he apparently hadn’t realised that the loyalty of his men was to his good self, rather than the Navy itself. The plan was to head back to Shipwreck Cove, stock up and set sail.

The charts that James had aboard the Empress led to a true plethora of wonderful places to explore, and Jack knew that James’ last day on land for a decade needed to be something to remember.

What better than an old temple ruin, possibly filled with treasure?

He seen on these charts rumours of a Monkey King, and shoes made of lotus fibre that allowed a man to walk in the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A botefeux is a stick with a slow match on which is used to light a cannon.
> 
> There may end up being more to this, but it is years since I last saw On Stranger Tides, so who knows.


End file.
